


Airbnb(e with me)

by gayornay



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bed & Breakfast, Dating, F/F, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, Mutual Pining, although in lesbian they're practically neighbors, and it's not the main focus, honorable mention for a few others
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayornay/pseuds/gayornay
Summary: Clarke and Raven used to rent a house with Octavia, until she gets married and moves out. With a newly available spare bedroom, Raven suggests they upload it to Airbnb to try and make up Octavia's part. Clarke is a bit wary, but she may become more receptive to the idea once she sees who one of their upcoming guests is going to be.(You get brownie points if you guess who it is.)
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 142
Kudos: 384





	1. Hit Submit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I even doing here, you may ask? I don't know. I'd like to think my brain is very good at multi-tasking. Let's go with that, shall we?
> 
> Also, just in case it needs to be said, I am in no way, shape or form affiliated to Airbnb. Please don't sue me. (I don't know if they could actually sue me, but *shrug*).
> 
> Enjoy! :)

There are few things Clarke will say no to without giving it a shot. So very few, in fact, that she doesn’t remember the last time she said no to one of her friend’s crazy ideas, but this… This might be the first time in a long while she feels inclined to put her foot down.

“I don’t know, Raven,” Clarke says, scratching the back of her head.

“Oh, come on, Clarke. Don’t be such a princess,” Raven teases, bumping her shoulder against Clarke’s.

They are sitting side by side in front of Raven’s laptop and the screen is staring back at her, the mouse pointer turned into a hand as it hovers over the ‘Submit’ button.

Eyes scan the form currently filled in with all their information and Clarke thinks about the possibilities. What if they only get creeps? What if they refuse to leave? What if they don’t respect their privacy?

These are all concerns Clarke had already raised and Raven had appeased. Or tried to, anyway. What if they aren’t? What if they don’t? What if they do? she had said. It hadn’t helped much.

“Look, let’s try it just once,” Raven insists. “If it really makes you uncomfortable, we’ll take it down and never talk about it again, okay?”

Considering her options, Clarke finally agrees. “Fine,” she says with a deflected sigh. She supposes the least she could do is compromise and give it a shot, albeit begrudgingly. “I still can’t believe you’re making me do this, though.”

“Hey,” Raven says right after she clicks the Submit button. It’s official, their listing is going to show up any minute now. “I am not making you do this.” Emphasizes on the I. “ _She_ is.” A thumb points behind them.

Turning her head to look over her shoulder, Clarke sees Octavia lift her head up to glance in their direction. “Don’t blame me,” she says, putting the last pieces of her belongings into a box labeled ‘living room’. “I got engaged a year ago, you knew this day was coming.”

It’s true, they did. 

“We knew you were getting married, but why couldn’t you guys move in with us? At least until our lease is up,” Raven asks, almost pouting. Clarke catches Octavia’s eye roll before she replies.

“You really would’ve liked that?” she asks, hand on her hip.

“Of course! Lincoln’s great, he’s really organized,” Raven says.

“And a great cook,” Clarke chimes in.

“Ooh, yeah,” Raven says, smiling. “On second thought, do you think maybe you could still move out, but have him move in instead?”

The answer comes in the form of a throw pillow hitting Raven in the back of her head. Clarke laughs and moves to stand up. She looks at the screen one more time, still not convinced putting their (now) spare bedroom up on Airbnb was a good idea.

As if sensing her discomfort, Raven reaches for her wrist. “It’ll be fine, Clarke. We can always veto any applicants we don’t like. Plus, we probably won’t get anyone anyway. No one visits this town this time of the year.”

That’s true. Tourists don’t start showing up until late spring, which buys Clarke at least a couple of months to get used to the idea. And Raven’s reasoning is not wrong. Technically they can afford the place between just the two of them, but it would make money tight and if they can rent Octavia’s old room enough times to cover her part, it will be much easier for both of them.

Only six more months and they’ll be moving out anyway.

Clarke nods and smiles at her friend, silently thanking her for trying to make her feel better. Octavia is done taping the last box and she picks it up off the ground with a loud grunt.

“Do you need some help, O?” Clarke asks, walking over to her.

“Could you get the door, please?”

Walking over to the front door, Clarke opens it to let Octavia go through and follows her to the car. She grabs the keys hanging from her friend’s pocket and pops the trunk open, helping move things out of the way so Octavia can place the box down.

“How’s married life going?” she asks. Octavia has only been back from her honeymoon for a day and even though she sent both Clarke and Raven texts with pictures of her and Lincoln enjoying their time in Hawai’i, they haven’t really had time to actually talk.

The smile taking over Octavia’s features is an answer in and of itself, but she’s happy to hear it’s going well, too.

“It’s weird not living with you guys, though,” Octavia admits quietly. Clarke smiles, places a hand on her arm and slides it up and down.

“I know. It’s weird for us, too,” Clarke replies, looking back at the three-bed, two-bath house they’ve shared for the past year and a half. “But you’re only moving ten minutes away. And,” Clarke adds with a smile, “you can always stay the night. I don’t know if you heard, but we have a spare bedroom available for forty dollars a night.”

Octavia laughs for a moment, but quickly sobers up. She looks at Clarke with frown lines wrinkling her forehead. “Am I putting you guys in a pinch? I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t be silly,” Clarke interrupts. “We’re fine. This is just so we can have some extra money. We’re happy for you, O.” She means it. They wouldn’t have asked Octavia to stay even if they couldn’t live there without her. They know how long she has been wanting to move in with Lincoln, their lease probably the only reason she didn’t move out sooner.

“You sure?” Octavia asks, still doubting the truthfulness in Clarke’s words.

“Of course,” Clarke reassures her. Octavia gives her a grateful smile and they begin walking back to the house. Raven has moved to the living room and is sitting on the couch, feet comfortably propped up on one of the few boxes left.

Octavia smacks her feet away and they glare at each other, making Clarke laugh. She’s going to miss their silly fights and unrelentless bickering, but she understands it’s time for her friend to start her life with Lincoln.

She’s sure Raven and her will manage just fine.

::::

Clarke vetoes the very first applicant. It only takes a week for someone to try and book the room, but he has a very low rating and something about him rubs Clarke the wrong way. Raven just rolls her eyes, establishing she can only veto three guests per month, afraid Clarke will just veto everyone.

(She’s not wrong. She definitely would if she could, but she figured that wouldn’t fly with Raven.)

The second person to contact them was looking for a place to stay a month after their lease is up, so they have to decline their request. They have to go back in and make sure the calendar doesn’t show any availability after September 30th.

Their first accepted booking comes in the form of a man looking to stay in the room for a week at the beginning of summer. It makes Clarke a little uneasy, but there’s nothing wrong about him—at least not based on his profile, so they go for it.

Plus, it’s not going to happen for another three and a half months, so it’s easier for Clarke to push it to the back of her head and ignore it for the time being.

That can be future-Clarke’s problem.

Then there’s the fourth request, one that comes two weeks after they published their listing and well, that one? That one’s a whole different story.

::::

“Oh, wow,” Raven says from her spot in the dining room, where she’s sitting in front of her laptop.

This has become a sort of ritual for them. So far whenever there’s been a new booking request they gather in front of the computer and go through it together to figure out if they’ll accept it or not.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks, coming back from the kitchen with two bowls of butternut squash soup she just finished heating up for them.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Raven says. She accepts the warm bowl with a grateful smile. “In fact, quite the opposite. I think you may like this one.” She turns her computer slightly so it’s angled toward Clarke, who’s now sitting right next to her.

Clarke peers at the screen behind a spoonful of soup, blowing it softly. “Lexa Woods,” she says out loud. First she reads her profile and message, not really paying attention to the picture attached to it, but when her eyes land on it… there’s a small chance her mouth may have gone dry, even though she just swallowed some soup. “Oh,” she lets out softly.

Raven snorts from beside her, shaking her head. “You’re so predictable, you thirsty half-unicorn.”

“Whatever do you mean, Raven?” Clarke averts her eyes to try and not so obviously stare at the picture of the woman who would like to book their room starting Thursday next week until the following Monday.

Her picture is simple, more along the lines of what you’d find on a professional networking site instead of friendly social media, but god dammit, she’s stunning. It almost looks like a headshot, although nothing in her profile indicates she’s a model or an actress.

But the way she’s staring straight at the camera, waves of loose brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the closed lip almost-smile (more like a half-smirk, maybe?) and those green eyes make Clarke think if she isn’t a model maybe she should be.

While she’s busy having a mini bi-panic, Raven snickers. “Should we reject it, then?”

“What? No. Why?” Clarke asks before she clues in on the fact that Raven is just being a jerk. “Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Should we set some sort of rule? No sleeping with our guests?” Raven jokes. “At least not until they’ve rated us five stars, anyway.” A pause. “Unless maybe sleeping with them would increase our chances of getting good reviews?”

Clarke chooses to ignore the last part. “I’m not thinking about sleeping with her, Raven.”

“Sure you’re not.”

Soup twirls in Raven’s bowl, threatening to spill, when Clarke nudges her shoulder not-so-gently. “Shut up and just accept it.”

“You don’t want to go through her profile some more, Clarke?” Her tone is teasing and Clarke is already getting sick of this joke. “Make sure she’s okay? What is your gut telling you, huh? You still have two vetoes left, you know?”

Clarke ignores her questions and instead reaches for the trackpad, tracing her finger over it until the mouse hovers on top of the ‘Accept’ button. She hesitates for a second before she presses down, green box with text at the top of the newly refreshed screen confirming she just accepted the reservation.

“Damn. You didn’t even reply to her first.”

Clarke’s eyes widen, suddenly remembering the message their upcoming guest left. It doesn’t matter, right? It doesn’t mean anything that she just accepted it. It’s fine, it’s fine.

Everything’s _fine_.

“Ugh. You are literally useless,” Raven says. She grabs the computer and moves it so it’s in front of her again. Her fingers start tapping the keys. “Hi Lexa. I have accepted your request,” she reads out loud as she types. “Please let me know if you have any questions, otherwise we’ll see you on Thursday.” She adds her name at the end and hits send before addressing Clarke again. “See? You have to be hospitable, Clarke. Just sitting there drooling over her picture isn’t enough.”

Clarke just rolls her eyes in response, grabbing the bowl that has been sitting in front of her for the past few minutes. The soup has managed to cool down just as quickly as her cheeks have heated up.

“I’m going to reheat my soup. I would offer to reheat yours, too, but you’re a jackass, so do it yourself,” she says, standing up to take her bowl back into the kitchen, the sound of Raven’s laughter following her all the way there.

::::

Originally Octavia was going to sell her bedroom furniture after moving out, having no need or space for it now that she was going to live with Lincoln in his already furnished place. But when she had heard Clarke and Raven were going to start renting the spare bedroom, she suggested leaving her bed, nightstands, dresser and TV behind instead.

They offered her money, but Octavia refused. Clarke thinks part of her still feels guilty for leaving before the lease is up and this was a way to make amends, even though it was completely unnecessary.

Either way, they let Octavia have it while silently agreeing to share some of their initial earnings with their friend to make up for it.

Since the bulk of it was taken care of, the only thing they had to buy was a couple of pillows and a new bedding set, which Clarke promptly stuck in the washer and dryer for a few cycles to break them out before their first guest’s arrival.

By the time the doorbell rang on Thursday night, everything was pretty much ready.

“Would you mind getting that?” Clarke hears Raven ask from the kitchen. She’s making dinner while Clarke finishes making the bed.

“On it,” Clarke says, loud enough for Raven to hear. She tugs the bottom of the comforter so there’s no wrinkled spots and then walks to the front door, opening it just as the doorbell rings again.

If you were to ask anyone who has known Clarke long enough if she’s ever faltered when faced with someone she’s attracted to, she’s pretty sure the immediate answer would be _no_.

She has never been afraid of approaching someone she's interested in, much less has she ever had trouble walking up to anyone just to strike up a conversation, so she’s surprised when the woman standing on the other side of the door renders her speechless.

Maybe it has something to do with the way green eyes shine under the porch light, or the way her lips turn up in a shy smile, or maybe it’s just the way her hair is braided, but strands have become loose. Whatever it is, Clarke needs to knock it off and collect her bearings.

Blinking a couple of times, she tries to get her neurons to connect to her lips, tongue and throat long enough for her to be able to speak, but instead all they do is leave her mouth agape.

_Way to make a first impression, Griffin._

“Uh,” the woman she knows is Lexa says after several seconds of silence. “I’m sorry. Are you Raven?” She knits her eyebrows, tilting her head just slightly. Now Clarke’s cheeks are burning and she’s too caught up being embarrassed to say anything.

This is going just great.

“I’m sorry, I thought–” Lexa takes a step back, peering to the side of the house where the numbers are. “Is this not the Airbnb?”

Clarke shakes her head. She means it in a ‘no, it is’ way, but of course it comes across as ‘it’s not the Airbnb’. She clues in on this when Lexa apologizes and takes her phone out of her pocket, confused, before turning around.

“Sorry, it is. This is it,” Clarke finally manages to say. Lexa stops walking and turns around again. Her eyebrows knit even closer together and Clarke can’t blame her for being so puzzled. “Sorry, you just caught me by surprise.”

Fighting the need to facepalm, she plasters a smile on her face. That was a stupid thing to say—now Lexa’s going to think they weren’t expecting her.

Wonderful.

“So you are Raven?” Lexa asks and she looks slightly amused. She pulls on the bag that’s hanging from her shoulder, her other hand holding onto the handle of her suitcase.

“No, I’m not.”

Okay, she really needs to start forming coherent sentences, because all she’s doing is confusing Lexa even more.

Before Lexa can speak again, Clarke clarifies, “I’m Clarke, the other host.”

“Ah, right,” Lexa says, nodding. “Sorry, I know you were in the profile picture, too. I just assumed—since Raven is who I’ve been talking to,” she explains and Clarke nods.

“No, yeah, of course,” she says with a soft laugh. They stand there in awkward silence, Clarke all but forgetting she needs to invite Lexa in.

She’s saved from herself when Raven appears by her side. “What’s taking so long?” She looks at Clarke and then at Lexa, who’s still standing a few feet away, almost halfway between their house and her car.

“What the hell are you doing, Griffin,” Raven mutters under her breath. “Lexa? Hi!” she says. She steps outside and walks over to her. “I’m sorry, please forgive her, she–she’s had a long day.”

It’s not really true, but Clarke doesn’t feel the need to correct her. It’s better than having to come up with an explanation for the useless mess she’s being right now.

Lexa offers Raven a smile in return. “No problem, I understand. Sorry I arrived so late, traffic getting out of the city was a disaster.” She motions to her car, currently parked in the driveway behind Clarke’s. “Is it okay if I leave it there?”

“Yes, of course, don’t worry about it,” Raven says. She offers to help Lexa with her suitcase and Lexa accepts with a smile and a soft thank you. 

Well, she’s somehow managed to look even more useless now that Raven is being all attentive and stuff.

 _Perfect_.

“Clarke doesn’t leave until close to ten, so as long as you don’t mind moving it before then?” Raven says as they walk past Clarke, who has to move to the side to let them in.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. I have an early start tomorrow, so it’ll be gone before then.”

“Clarke?” Raven says. “Will you show Lexa the place while I serve dinner?” Clarke nods as she closes the front door. Raven returns her attention to Lexa. “I made spaghetti and meatballs, there’s plenty if you’d like to have some?”

Lexa smiles, but shakes her head. “I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m just going to get ready for bed.”

Clarke is caught somewhere between being disappointed she won’t get to hang out with her tonight and relieved she’ll get a chance to reset and maybe behave like a normal person next time they’re in the same room together.

“Of course,” Raven says. “If you change your mind, there’ll be plenty leftovers in the fridge.” She disappears into the kitchen, leaving Clarke alone with Lexa again.

 _Okay. Time to prove you’re not a complete idiot_.

“So,” Clarke says, clearing her throat. “This is obviously the living room and dining room.” She points around them. “You’re welcome to hang out around here if you want. As you can imagine, the kitchen is through that door.”

“So she does form full sentences.” Green eyes are sparkling and she must think she’s hilarious. Clarke rolls her eyes in response.

“Don’t make me cut your tour short,” Clarke threatens, relieved to realize she’s finally able to act like a normal person.

“Oh, no. How will I ever find my way around?”

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Clarke asks, hands on hips. “Fine. Goodnight.” She turns to leave, but stops at the sound of Lexa’s voice and laughter.

“No, don’t go. Please show me around, I don’t want to end up in the wrong bed.”

Nothing about the way she says it makes Clarke think she meant it in any way other than just genuine concern, but her cheeks flush nonetheless and god dammit, can’t her body just fucking chill?

She finds small comfort in the way Lexa’s eyes widen when she realizes how it sounded and Clarke takes the opportunity to gain the upper hand.

“Yeah, I guess we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” she asks, voice an octave lower than usual.

Lexa’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink and Clarke tries to hide her triumphant smile. Who’s flustered now, huh?

Lexa clears her throat and shakes her head. “Anyway. Bedroom?” Clarke lifts an eyebrow in her direction and that pink slowly turns into red. “I mean, just—finish the tour,” she says, sounding slightly exasperated and Clarke just laughs.

“This way,” she says, deciding to give her a break. She leads them down the hallway, pointing at the guest bedroom and waiting until Lexa has placed her bag and suitcase down before moving along. Next is the bathroom and Clarke tells her they’ll be sharing it, indicating her own bedroom is right across from it.

Finally, she points to the door at the end of the hallway, letting her know that’s Raven’s room. She has her own bathroom, so she won’t need to worry about her.

Lexa looks confused for a moment and Clarke wonders what she’s thinking. It’s not long before she speaks up. “So you and Raven…?”

“Yes?”

“Never mind,” Lexa says, shaking her head. “None of my business.”

“What is it?” Clarke asks once they reach the guest bedroom again. Lexa doesn’t answer, so she insists. “Tell me.”

“I just assumed—the profile picture.”

Her answer doesn’t make much more sense than her initial question, but Clarke is able to put two and two together when she remembers the picture Lexa’s referring to. It shows Clarke and Raven close together, smiling at the camera.

She could see how it could be interpreted one way or the other.

“Oh. No, we’re not together.” Pulling the inside of her cheek between her teeth, she adds, “Although I guess I can see why you’d think that. I’m going to talk to her, maybe she should change it.”

Lexa frowns. “I mean, it’s not like it’s a bad thing anyway,” she says and she sounds tentative almost, like she’s waiting for Clarke’s reaction.

“Well, yeah, no, of course not. It’s–it’s fine.” She’s not sure that’s enough to let Lexa know that she’s not against the idea of two women together, but she also doesn’t come out and say it.

This is weird. Why are they even talking about this?

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Lexa says with a shrug, and maybe she’s trying just as hard to convey that in fact there isn’t anything wrong about it? Not that Clarke would’ve assumed otherwise.

She doubts there’s many people below the age of thirty who live in the city and are _not_ okay with people doing whatever they want with their lives.

“Anyway,” Clarke says, steering the conversation back to business. “There’s a key on the nightstand, right next to the remote control. You can use it while you’re staying here to come and go as you please.”

Lexa smiles. “Thanks for the tour. Now I can relax knowing I won’t get lost,” she teases while stifling a yawn. Clarke considers making another joke about landing on the wrong bed, but decides against it. Instead, she matches Lexa’s smile and takes a step back.

“If you need anything, please let either one of us know.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“No problem. ‘Night, Lexa.”

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

Her stomach twists in an unexpected way when Lexa says her name, but she blames it on being hungry and uses it as the propeller she needs to leave Lexa alone and go back to the dining room, ready to eat the food Raven has prepared for them tonight.

::::

“Okay, what the hell was that about?” Raven asks as soon as the sounds coming from the bathroom cease and they hear the guest bedroom door close.

Clarke’s halfway through a mouthful of spaghetti and she has to swallow before she can reply. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that innocent look. You’re trying to sabotage her stay. You said you were going to give this a chance,” Raven accuses in a hushed tone.

“Raven, I’m not–”

“Oh, don’t even. You weren’t even inviting her in, I had to step outside myself. I know you’re reluctant about this whole thing but—oh my god.”

Clarke’s cheeks have turned red for possibly the third—or is it fourth? No one’s counting, right?—time tonight and it must clue Raven in on what it was all about because it stops her angry rant in its tracks. Instead it’s replaced with a pitiful laugh.

“Well, this is a first,” Raven says with a smug smile on her face. She leans back against the chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “Has our new guest managed to stun my little go-getter?”

“Shut up, Raven,” Clarke says. She seriously contemplates using her fork as a catapult and flinging a whole meatball at Raven’s face just so she doesn’t have to see the way she’s looking at her right now. “She’s attractive, yes. But she’s our guest, so it doesn’t matter. She just caught me off guard at first, that’s all. I’m over it.”

“Hm.” Raven gives her a knowing smile. Clarke shakes her head.

“Anyway,” Clarke says in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “I ended up printing a poster at work with the rules we talked about the other day. I left it on your bed so you can see it and maybe go over them with Lexa tomorrow? Since you’ll have a better chance of seeing her in the morning.”

“Look at you, so on top of things. I guess you really aren’t trying to fuck things up.”

“I can’t believe you thought I was. I told you I was going to give it a shot.”

“I know, I know. I’ve just never seen this incompetent side of you before.”

It may not be a meatball, but Clarke does throw her crumpled napkin at her friend’s face, chuckling when it hits her right on the forehead.

“I’ll have you know I was a gracious host throughout our tour of the house.”

“I’m sure you were,” Raven says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She takes the last bite of her meal, patting her stomach in approval. “That was delicious, by the way.”

“You do love my cooking,” Raven says with a proud smile.

“I do,” Clarke admits. And it reminds her, “Lexa thought we were a couple.”

Water almost goes flying everywhere when Raven struggles to contain the sip she just took in her mouth. Thankfully she’s able to stop it with her hand, just a few drops sliding down her chin before she’s able to swallow the rest.

“Whatever gave her that impression?” she asks, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“I guess the picture you chose is pretty ambiguous.”

“I knew I should’ve gone with a different one. It’s just, we look really cute in it.” Clarke nods in agreement. “Did she look relieved when you told her?”

“Relieved? Why would she be?”

“I don’t know,” Raven says with a shrug. “Just trying to see if you actually have a shot with her.”

Clarke can’t help but roll her eyes in response. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going there.”

“Why not? If she’s into it.”

“First of all, she’s not ‘into it’. Plus, she’s our guest, Raven.” Her friend opens her mouth to reply, but Clarke cuts her off. “I’m _not_ part of the services included,” she says, sticking her nose up in the air. “Stop trying to use me to get five stars. She’s here for the weekend, we’ll make sure she has a comfortable stay—Not _that_ comfortable.” She glares at Raven. “Then she’ll go her merry way and we’ll never see her again. And that’s that. So stop it.”

“Okay, okay.” Raven playfully lifts her hands up in surrender. “I’m dropping it, sheesh.”

::::

A knock on the door makes Clarke look up from her desk where she’s been typing the schedule she has planned for the next couple of weeks. It’s Friday and slightly past five o'clock, which means it’s time to go home, but she wants to finish this first.

“Hi, Clarke,” Marcus Kane, her boss, says from the doorway. He leans his shoulder against it. “Leaving soon?”

Clarke nods, typing the last event into the calendar before clicking the green ‘Save’ button. She waits for confirmation and then goes to shut the computer off.

“Yeah, about to, actually. Why, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d mind working a full shift tomorrow? It’s supposed to get really busy and we could use a couple of extra hands.”

“Sure,” Clarke says, stopping the sigh that almost escapes through her lips.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Marcus says with a smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Clarke nods and waves goodbye to him. She runs a frustrated hand through locks of blonde hair after he’s out of sight.

This has been happening more and more lately, Mr. Kane asking her to work longer shifts instead of sticking to her part-time schedule. She doesn’t mind it. Not too much, anyway. She gets paid overtime so it’s actually a good thing, but she’s afraid soon enough he’ll offer her a full time position, and even though that in and of itself isn’t a bad thing either… well, it’s just not what she wanted out of this.

This job was supposed to be temporary. It was supposed to help her get through college and then provide a steady income while she settled in her actual career. Instead, it’s been slowly eating at her working hours and becoming more and more of her _only_ job.

She’s still not sure how she feels about that.

Gathering her things, she gets ready to go home. It’s not until she’s in her car, driving home, that she remembers tomorrow is Octavia and Lincoln’s housewarming party. 

_Dammit_. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not supposed to start until four and Clarke will be off at five, so if she goes there straight from work she’ll only be about an hour late, but still. If she had remembered, she wouldn't have accepted her boss’ request.

Her mood now soured, she has nothing in mind but getting home and lying on the couch for the rest of the day.

Raven texts her at around six saying she’s going out with her coworkers and asking Clarke if she wants to join them. She politely declines, content to spend the remainder of her Friday in front of the TV.

She’s really not in the mood for anything else.

The sound of something tampering with the front door startles her. She jumps to her feet, heart racing, picking up the remote control and holding it up by her shoulders like a weapon—it’s absolutely ridiculous on so many levels.

That’s how Lexa finds her when she walks in. Her eyes widen for a split second, probably not expecting Clarke to be standing in the middle of the living room with a not-at-all threatening object. Then eyebrows knit, vision zeroing in on the remote control Clarke is still clutching to.

And then–

Then she laughs.

“Wow,” she says between fits of laughter. “Thank god I’m not an actual thief, Clarke. Or I would have met my ultimate death by–” It’s like she can’t contain herself. “A remote control.” And she won’t stop chuckling.

Clarke seriously considers chucking it at her. Show her it _could_ be deadly if she wanted it to be. But she doesn’t. Instead, she throws it on the couch and sits down next to it, hand over her still erratically beating heart.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Lexa says once she’s managed to calm down. She walks further into the house, closing the door behind her. She drops her bag on the dining room table and approaches Clarke.

Clarke waves her off. “It’s fine. I’m still not used to the additional guest and all I knew was that Raven’s not supposed to come home yet.”

“I get that,” Lexa says with a small smile. “I just don’t get how the remote was supposed to help.”

Clarke glares at her, unable to defend herself. It _had_ been a poorly planned reaction.

“You know I can just cut your stay short, right?” Her threat has no bite to it. Lexa lifts an eyebrow in her direction and Clarke hates the way it sends a jolt down her body.

“Hm. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?”

“Well, you have no reviews. If you kick me out, I’ll be forced to leave a one star review. Good luck renting out the room with just one star, Clarke.”

She says it so confidently, a smug smile firmly in place.

(Clarke doesn’t allow herself to think what she wants to do to it.)

“I may even get my money back if I tell them my safety was threatened.” Her eyes shine and Clarke just _knows_ what’s coming. “I’ll leave out the remote control part, though. You know, to make it believable.”

Crossing her arms over her chest in a huff, Clarke just looks straight ahead, choosing to ignore the rude woman still standing by the couch. She focuses on the TV instead. She’s not even sure what’s on anymore, but it doesn’t matter. She’s just content looking anywhere but at Lexa’s stupid self-satisfied smile.

“Don’t you have to go to sleep or something?” Clarke asks, still not looking at Lexa.

“It’s seven o’clock, Clarke.” Lexa surprises her when she takes the few steps separating her from the couch and sits down, the remote sitting between them. “And I was told I’m more than welcomed to hang out here.”

“Whoever said that is probably regretting it now.”

A single shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. I think she enjoys my company.”

“Highly doubt it. You’re pretty annoying.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Clarke nods.

“Then why can’t she fight her smile, huh?”

Her cheeks redden and she looks away. “That’s because of the TV.”

They both turn their attention to the screen only to see a commercial about some drug that will make you drowsy, give you a headache, make you itchy and possibly kill you, but that might help with your growing nails.

Or something just as absurd as that.

Lexa hums, Clarke’s obvious lie hanging between them, but she doesn’t push any further.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Clarke speaks up.

“Why did you pick us?” she asks, going back to their previous conversation.

“Huh?” Lexa looks confused for a moment, but seems to understand what she’s talking about without Clarke needing to explain any further. “Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugs, looks away. “Good price and location. I figured it was worth a shot since you guys didn’t seem like the murderous type.” A pause. “Of course, that was before I knew about–”

Clarke playfully smacks her knee. “Don’t say it.”

Lexa laughs and shakes her head. “Fine, fine. I won’t.” But her eyes dart to the remote sitting between them and Clarke can’t help but hit her knee again. “Hey! I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it.”

“You didn’t say anything about–”

Clarke rolls her eyes and stands up. “I’m hungry and desperate to get away from you,” she says and she hates the way Lexa’s smile widens and how it reaches her eyes, making them look a brighter shade of green. Hates how her body reacts to the woman sitting on her couch, like she wants to make her laugh some more and–

No. Just, _no_.

Now she’s (for real) desperate to get away from Lexa for completely different reasons.

“I’m going to heat up some leftover pasta. Do you want some?”

Lexa shakes her head, but offers her a grateful smile. “I ate before coming back. But thank you.”

Clarke nods and disappears into the kitchen, thankful for the distance she’s able to put between them. She really needs to stop this—whatever this is.

With her food in the microwave, she takes the time to calm down. There’s nothing to be freaking out about, really. Lexa is just another (very) attractive person, who also happens to be funny and witty. And Clarke feels comfortable around her after only spending an hour with her. But that doesn’t mean anything.

There’s plenty of people like that out there.

And sure—if they had met under different circumstances Clarke probably would be flirting and trying to see where the night goes, but it’s not different. She’s their guest; it would be inappropriate and she doesn’t want to ruin the chances of someone else staying with them because she can’t keep it in her pants.

So all she has to do is push all thoughts to the back of her head and just spend as little time with her as possible. Lexa will probably be busy; so is she between work and the party.

So yeah—make it three more days and that’s it. Then Lexa will leave and Clarke will forget all about it.

Just three more days.

Easy, right?

::::

Work is really busy. She understands why Mr. Kane had asked her to stay all day as soon as the doors to the museum opened, a flock of kids and adults alike quickly filling in.

There’s a period of time—usually towards the last month or so of winter—where every weekend is extremely crowded. Something about the weather begins driving people insane, forcing them to leave their house. The problem is it’s still not nice enough to be outside, so families come to the museum hoping to get some reprieve from the confines of their own homes.

Then it usually dies down a little during the spring. Once the weather turns around enough that people can actually be outdoors they tend to spend as much time as possible there until summer rolls around. Then it’s back to kids being relentless since they’re off school, so they come back to the museum. Add that to the tourists that visit during the warmest months of the year and it’s busy all over again.

It’s a cycle Clarke is very much used to by now. And she likes it; part of her job is organizing activities for people to do while they visit, so she prefers it when there’s actually people there to enjoy them.

It helps make her day go by faster, too.

When five o’clock rolls around it almost catches her by surprise. She hadn’t realized the day was over until they announce the museum will be closing its doors. She takes that as her queue, going into her office to quickly change out of the branded collar shirt she wears at work into a more casual, low-cut black t-shirt.

She puts on her jacket, throws a beanie on for good measure and leaves, shooting a quick message to the group chat with Octavia and Raven to let them know she’s on her way and should be there in no more than 15 minutes.

 _Hurry up!_ _I have a surprise for you_ , Raven replies, but she’s already in her car so she doesn’t pay it much attention.

By the time she’s knocking on Octavia’s door, she’s all but forgotten about Raven’s text. She’s greeted by Lincoln, who pulls her in for a tight hug. This is the first time she’s seen him since they came back from their honeymoon, so she returns the embrace in kind.

“Thanks for coming,” Lincoln says. He guides her in, even though it’s not necessary. She’s been here multiple times before, but it’s cute how he sticks to his host duties.

As they walk through the entrance and into the living room, Clarke can already see pieces of Octavia’s life scattered around the house. It makes her smile, appreciating that her friend has already managed to make this her home, too.

The party is meant for close friends, so she’s not surprised to see Murphy, Lincoln’s coworker, and Jasper, Octavia’s friend from college, sitting on the couch. She waves at them when they see her and they wave back, smiling.

She hears Raven and Octavia’s voices coming from the kitchen and she excuses herself, heading in that direction. She can hear them laughing in the other room and she smiles.

“Stop having so much fun without me,” she jokes when she pushes the door open to announce her presence. The laughter stops at the sound of her voice and her own steps falters when she realizes there’s a third person in the room.

“Hey, Griffin!” Raven says. She walks over to where Clarke is standing still and grabs her hand to pull her in the direction of the other two.

Her feet move, but she doesn’t register much else, blue eyes fixed on Lexa. Lexa who looks much like her profile picture; hair loose, subtle eyeliner making her green eyes pop, flannel unbuttoned to reveal a shirt underneath.

She needs a drink.

“Hey, Clarke.” Lexa smiles at her and fuck—make that two drinks.

She was not prepared for this tonight.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Clarke says. She hopes it doesn’t sound rude; she doesn’t mean it to be. She’s just genuinely surprised.

“You’re welcome,” Raven leans in to whisper in her ear. Clarke elbows her, already feeling her cheeks warming up. She hopes Lexa didn’t hear that. She’s looking at them curiously, but otherwise doesn’t comment on it.

“I didn’t either,” she says, “but I was at the house when Raven came to change and she invited me. I figured I could do more than just work while I’m here.”

“I’m glad Raven invited her,” Octavia says and Clarke lifts an eyebrow at that. “She was just telling us the funniest story.”

Raven snickers and Lexa tries to hide a smile behind her hand.

She doesn’t like where this is going.

“What story?” Clarke questions, even though she has a feeling she shouldn’t even ask. She looks at Lexa, but Lexa is avoiding her gaze at all costs, not saying a word.

“What was it, Lexa?” Raven pretends to try and remember. “I think she said she read an article? Something like, ‘People are using these household items to fight off crime. Number four will surprise you!’. Can you guess what number four is, Clarke?”

Octavia bursts out laughing and that’s when Clarke realizes what they are talking about.

She gasps.

“You told them?” She asks Lexa, who’s still refusing to look at her, but her shoulders are shaking from her contained laughter. “I can’t believe you,” she feigns offense. She’s not really upset, although she knows she’ll never live it down now.

Lexa finally dares to look at her with a wide smile. “They were just asking me about other bed and breakfast experiences. How could I not? It was pretty remarkable.”

“Don’t be upset with her,” Raven says. She places a placating hand on her shoulder. “She’s just worried about your safety, Clarke. We need to get you a better weapon.”

Clarke huffs, shaking Raven’s hands off her shoulder. “You guys are the worst,” she says when all three start laughing again. “Well, I’m glad you decided to come, Lexa. And that you get to spend time with your new friends, because I’m done with them.”

She obviously isn’t, could never be, but that doesn’t stop her from making a dramatic exit.

Or trying to, anyway—she runs straight into Lincoln when he opens the door to announce dinner is ready. Now there’s more laughter coming from behind her.

She really needs to find new friends.

::::

“I hope you’re not really upset I told your friends about it.”

Clarke is sitting outside by herself, enjoying some fresh air when Lexa joins her. Clarke smiles as Lexa sits down next to her. She’s carrying a plate with a couple of brownie bites and she extends it in Clarke’s direction to offer her one.

“Thank you,” Clarke says. She takes one and immediately bites into it. “And I’m not. If it wasn’t about that, they would be making fun of me for literally anything else.”

“They did share some pretty funny stories, too.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Clarke exclaims, looking up. She already feels embarrassed, even though she doesn’t know exactly which stories were shared. “Of course they did.”

“Nothing too bad.” Lexa smiles reassuringly. “I’m still out here talking to you, aren’t I?”

Clarke squints her eyes at her. “Yeah, but what are your intentions?” She pretends to be searching her eyes for anything suspicious, accidentally getting lost in them for a moment. She has to look away to remember what she was talking about. “How do I know you’re not here to make fun of me?”

Lexa laughs—that same laugh that makes Clarke’s stomach twist and _shit_ , maybe they should go inside so they can be around other people, because the wind has picked up and Lexa’s perfume smells really good and her hair is getting blown and she looks–

Clarke shakes her head.

“I promise I’m not.” Lexa pauses for a second. “Well, not about anything they said, anyway. If you manage to do something embarrassing all on your own, then—I can’t be held responsible.”

“Fair enough,” Clarke says. She tells herself she really, _really_ shouldn’t do anything stupid. And she’s not thinking about something silly like tripping on her way back inside. No. She’s thinking more along the lines of leaning in to push a strand of loose hair behind Lexa’s ear, her eyes never leaving hers in case there’s any chance she—

 _Fuck_.

What is it about this woman? Is it because she’s not supposed to? Is that what this is? Because if that’s the case, then her brain needs to grow the fuck up.

“So,” Clarke says, trying to fill the silence as much as she’s trying to stop her brain from derailing any further until there’s no turning back. “What brings you here, anyway?”

Lexa looks confused. “Raven invited me.”

Clarke laughs, shakes her head. “I know that. I meant, here, to this town, this weekend.”

“Ahh,” Lexa says, laughing softly. “Of course.” Her cheeks redden and she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

Well, at least now the temptation is gone.

“I’m here for work. I have a few potential clients I have to meet during the weekend, trying to nail down some contracts.”

“Fancy,” Clarke quips.

Lexa shrugs. “It’s not what you think. That probably made me sound like a lawyer or something.”

“What is it that you do, exactly?”

“I own a business with my best friend. We try to get farmers from outside the city to sell their products at different local markets,” Lexa explains. She puts the plate with an abandoned brownie down on the table in front of them. “Usually they only focus on their own local farmer’s markets because it’s easier for them, but we offer to bridge the gap so they can sell them in other places, even if they’re not there.”

“Wow,” Clarke says, impressed. “The fact that you own your own business is really cool.” Lexa dismisses it with a shrug, but Clarke is having none of that. “No, seriously. That’s awesome. How long have you guys been in business for?”

“About two years. We started helping people just in the outskirts of the city, but we’ve reached a point where we can look further.”

“So, you came here this weekend and then next week you’re moving on to somewhere else?”

“Something like that.” A gust of wind picks up again and Lexa brings her shirt closer around herself. She looks cute all bundled up and—

Nope. Come on.

Three more days.

“Anya—that’s my best friend and business partner—she’s in charge of all the logistics back home. She talks to the organizers and vendors there; I talk to the farmers everywhere else. And then we are both in charge of everything in between.

“Since we are expanding now, I’m actually trying to capture as many farmers in this area as possible, so it’s going to be a months-long effort.”

A months-long…?

“Does that mean you’re coming back?” Clarke asks. She may sound slightly hopeful. Just very, _very_ slightly.

If Lexa notices, she doesn’t comment on it.

“Yeah. Several times for the next six months or so. At least once a month, maybe more, it will depend on the business.”

“Ah.” Clarke doesn’t know what to say. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? This whole time she’s been thinking all she has to do is get through three more days, but now—shit. What if Lexa decides to stay with them again? The universe can’t exactly expect her not to do anything about it if she’s going to be coming back.

“Yeah. So you may have earned yourself a return customer,” Lexa says. She’s smiling, but she looks shy.

Clarke’s heart is beating fast and she takes another bite of the brownie just so she has enough time to think about what she’s going to say next. To avoid saying something stupid like ‘I’d be happy to have you coming again and again’.

(Which did cross her mind. Thank god for that brownie.)

“We would love to have you back.”

Well. She’s not entirely sure that was any better, but at least it wasn’t inappropriate, so… yay?

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

So maybe she’s a little bit worried she won’t be able to not kiss her next time she sees her, but if she manages to make it out alive this time around surely she can do it again, right?

“Well, Raven mentioned on the way over how you guys just published the listing, but you weren’t sure about it and were just giving it a shot.” She shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if you're willing to leave the listing up.”

Honestly, when she first agreed to this she figured that’s how it was going to go. She expected someone would rent the room, it would be a horrible experience and even Raven would agree it was a bad idea, immediately taking the listing down.

She wasn’t expecting someone like Lexa to come around. 

She supposes keeping it up wouldn’t be half-bad.

“It’ll stay up,” Clarke says with a smile. Up until now she had been staring in front of her, trying to sort through her thoughts, but she finally looks back at Lexa.

Lexa’s looking at her intently, like she’s lost in her own thoughts and Clarke’s not sure she’s imagining things when she sees Lexa’s eyes following her mouth before snapping up to meet her own.

Lexa looks away, but Clarke manages to catch the faint reddening of her cheeks.

“That’s good to know,” Lexa says, and in an attempt to divert Clarke’s attention, she adds, “Anyway, what do you do?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Clarke replies, unable to stop the bitter laugh that escapes her lips. Lexa looks at her surprised, eyebrow raised in question. Clarke shrugs. “I work at the Interactive Museum downtown. I’m an associate and I help prepare activities, plan parties and just, make sure things run smoothly.”

Lexa nods. “Who did I just ask?”

“My mom, probably,” Clarke says, shaking her head. Ever the pragmatic, her mom refuses to refer to her actual career as her job as long as it’s not providing a steady income; doesn’t matter that she went to school for four years.

‘If you can’t count on it month to month, sweetheart, it’s not a job’. She fights the need to roll her eyes at just the memory.

“And if I were to ask you?”

“I’m an Illustrator by profession. I majored in Art and Design, but so far I’ve only managed to land a couple of freelance jobs here and there. So in the meantime I’m working at the museum to pay the bills.”

She’s usually not comfortable talking about this. Far too many fights with her mom about ‘wasting four years of her life’ have left a sour taste in her mouth when it comes to talking about her career, but Lexa is listening without judgement and Clarke really appreciates that.

“I’m sure something will come along.”

“Maybe,” Clarke says, but she’s not holding her breath. The more time goes by, the more she starts to wonder if maybe her mom was right.

“Hey,” Lexa says. She reaches over, briefly places a hand on her knee. “You just have to keep working toward it and then it’ll all fall into place.” She gives it a light squeeze, then retracts it.

Clarke wonders if it would be too much to reach over to stop her retreating hand; if it really would be that bad to just lean in and kiss her.

The further they get into the night, the colder it gets and they both shiver the next time the wind picks up. They laugh at their matched reaction and silently agree to go back inside, joining everyone else around the living room.

::::

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?” Clarke asks for the third time, even though she’s just a few feet away from the door, car keys already in hand.

“Yes, Clarke,” Niylah says. She playfully nudges her toward the door.

It’s early Sunday afternoon and the crowd at the museum has already started dying down, but Clarke still feels the need to double—or triple—check on weekends, especially after she’s asked to work full-time the day before. She doesn’t want to leave them short-staffed if they could use the help.

“Just get outta here,” Niylah insists, her nudging becoming closer to a push.

“I didn’t know you were so desperate to get rid of me,” Clarke jokes and it earns her an eye roll.

“If you were to stay here to keep me company you know I would be more than happy,” she says and her tone has suddenly turned flirtatious.

Clarke laughs. They’ve reached a point where they just joke about it now, way past that awkward phase they went through for a few weeks after their string of random hook-ups over a year ago. “I thought work was off limits?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

Niylah shrugs. “You know I’d bend the rules for you,” she says with a wink and it’s so cheesy Clarke can’t help but laugh again. “C’mon, get out now,” she says one last time, opening the door for Clarke.

“Alright, alright. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too, Clarke.”

It’s oddly warm for this time of the year and Clarke decides to walk to the farmer’s market a couple of blocks away to buy some pastries from her favorite bakery stand.

Every Sunday the market pops up and every other week Clarke stops by to get something, or at least check out what they’re offering. She’s been doing this for over a year now, to the point where she’s friendly with some of the sellers.

She checks the time just in case to confirm they’re still open, relieved when she sees it’s not even two o’clock. She still has about an hour left. Hopefully all the good pastry won’t be gone.

Once she reaches the market she walks past stands selling fruit and vegetables, art, and goods until she reaches her destination. She greets Callie, the older woman who runs the stand, and smiles at her warm hello.

Looking to see what’s left on the table, she tries to decide what she’s getting today. She settles on a couple of strawberry and cream danishes and some chocolate chip muffins for Raven. She buys a couple of extra ones in case Lexa wants to try them, too.

She pays in cash and wishes Callie a good day, ready to go home. She’s almost past all the stands on her way back to the car when she sees Indra and her jam jars neatly placed on the table. They’re running low on the raspberry one she bought over a month ago, so she chooses to make one last stop.

Indra’s busy talking to another customer when she approaches. She browses the different flavors while she waits and it’s not until she involuntarily hears part of their conversation that she decides to pay closer attention to the woman whose back is facing Clarke.

“Lexa?” she asks when there’s a break in their exchange. The woman turns around and Clarke confirms it is in fact her.

“Clarke?”

“You two know each other?” India asks. She walks behind her stand to take care of another customer.

“Lexa’s staying with us for the weekend.”

“Yeah, Raven and Clarke have been great.”

Clarke smiles at that, her eyes taking Lexa in. She definitely looks to be in full professional mode, back straight, her hands behind it.

“Are you familiar with the work she does?” Indra sounds sceptical and Clarke can see why. It’s probably not easy to just hand off a product you’ve been working so hard on in the hopes that someone else will make sure it’s well represented and sells well elsewhere.

She’s not sure why she decides to stick her neck out for a person she’s only known for a couple of days, but she’s always been able to trust her gut when it comes to people, so she nods.

She’s not completely unaware of green eyes focused on her when she speaks next, but her attention is on Indra. “Yeah. She’s told me all about it and even though I haven’t worked with her directly, I can tell she’s really smart and could probably help your business a lot.” She adds a smile for good measure and it seems to do the trick.

Indra nods, turns her attention back to Lexa. “When did you say you were planning on setting up the stand?”

“Not until mid-Spring.” She reaches into the back pocket of her black jeans and takes out what looks like a business card. “You can think about it and let me know. I will be back within the next month or so, so we can discuss further it then. Just keep it in mind in case you’d like to increase your production—as much as your bandwidth allows, of course.”

Indra takes the card from her and nods. “I’ll be reaching out,” she says and Lexa smiles.

“Great.”

“Out of jam already?” Indra turns to ask Clarke. She nods.

“I don’t think it lasted more than a month this time.”

“Raspberry again?”

“I think I’ll go with strawberry this time.”

Indra reaches for one of the jars and puts it in a small plain paper bag, handing it over. Clarke reaches into her bag to grab her wallet when a hand lands on her arm.

“I’ll get it,” Lexa offers with a smile.

“You don’t have to–“

“Nonsense,” she interrupts. She pulls a twenty out of her pocket and hands it over to Indra. They wait in silence while she gathers the change and wish Indra a good evening once they’re done.

“You didn’t have to pay for it,” Clarke says. They walk off to the side of the market, closing time approaching. Some vendors are already putting their leftover products away.

“It’s the least I could do after you vouched for me.” Lexa’s looking at her curiously, like she’s trying to figure out why she did. Clarke looks away, still not sure she knows the answer herself.

“It was nothing,” she dismisses with a shrug.

“It wasn’t to me.” She sounds so soft, so grateful. Clarke needs to keep looking away.

“So,” Clarke says, clearing her throat. “Is this where you’ve been all day?”

Lexa nods. She sticks her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Pretty much. I came over a little before they opened, talked to some people, handed out some business cards.”

“How do you think it went?”

“Not bad. It’s usually hard to break into, they’re always a little bit wary at first. That’s why I like to come back several times, build a relationship so they know they can trust me.” Lexa looks at her, smile on her face. “I didn’t know all I needed was a wingwoman.”

Clarke laughs. “I have been told I’m a pretty damn good wingwoman.”

She has helped Raven get some on more than one occasion, actually.

“Hm,” Lexa says. She tilts her head to the side, looking at Clarke from top to bottom, her gaze leaving a hot trail all over Clarke’s body. “I find that hard to believe.”

Well, that’s rude.

Lexa seems to realize the way it sounded. “I don’t mean– It’s just.” Lexa sighs. For a second it looks like she’s going to bail on this conversation entirely—which, depending on what she’s going to say next maybe she should. But then she takes a steady breath and looks Clarke straight in the eyes when she says, “I find it hard to believe anyone could focus on anyone else, if they met you.”

The way she fearlessly says it, combined with eyes that never leave Clarke’s, root her to the spot and Lexa has managed to leave her speechless not for the first time since she arrived.

Clarke tries to reply, but nothing comes out, her brain too caught up trying to downplay the meaning of her words—surely she meant it in nothing more than a friendly way, right?

_Right?_

“Anyway,” Lexa says, saving her from herself. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear—an ear that Clarke notices has turned slightly red. Is it because of the cold? No. It’s not cold enough—and it’s something she seems to do when she’s nervous. “Are you heading home?”

Clarke nods, but then stops. She was, unless—

“Have you had a chance to walk around town yet?”

“Not really.”

“Are you up for it?” Lexa seems to think about it and Clarke jumps in, not wanting her to feel pressured. “If you’re busy, or don’t want to, that’s fine. I was gonna go home anyway, I just thought–” She stops talking when Lexa nods.

“I’m up for it,” she says.

“Yeah?” Lexa nods again. “Okay. Alright. Cool. Let’s go then.”

::::

“Okay. I have to admit, this was a good idea.” Lexa hums happily around another mouthful of handcrafted ice cream and Clarke has to avert her eyes, the look of pure satisfaction on Lexa’s face too much to handle right now.

“I can’t believe you’re one of those people who doesn’t like having ice cream during winter.”

After some insisting, Clarke had dragged Lexa into her favorite ice cream shop to buy some before heading to the marina. Now they’re sitting side by side on a park bench that overlooks the ocean.

“Ice cream is meant to cool you down,” Lexa says matter-of-factly. “If it’s already cold, then what’s the point?”

“See, that’s where you got it wrong,” Clarke says, taking another spoonful of ice cream and pulling the empty spoon out with a pop. She got hers in a bowl, while Lexa went with a classic waffle cone. “Ice cream is meant to be delicious. It doesn’t matter if it’s cold or hot—if it’s good, you eat it.”

Lexa laughs. “Don’t tell me you also eat soup in the summer because it’s _delicious_ ,” she mocks.

“Some soups are meant to be eaten in the summer.”

“Oh my god. No. Summers are hot! Soup is hot. It would only make you hotter,” Lexa says.

“Impossible,” Clarke says with a wink. It makes Lexa laugh, but also roll her eyes. “Well, how do you explain summer squash soup, huh?” Before Lexa can rebut, Clarke continues. “It’s in the name, Lexa. You can’t fight the name.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Lexa shakes her head.

“Say what you want,” Clarke says with a small shrug. She takes another spoonful of ice cream, dragging the spoon out slowly. She’s been noticing the way Lexa’s eyes seem to find her mouth whenever she does and she’s been having a little too much fun watching green eyes follow her tongue every time she licks her lips. “You’re sitting here enjoying ice cream and it’s winter.”

“Only because it’s not that cold,” Lexa says, her eyes still stuck on Clarke’s lips. She swallows hard and looks away.

It’s really adorable how red her cheeks get.

“Your logic is flawed, Lexa. Just be glad you met me and I opened your eyes.”

Lexa turns her head to look at her again, something soft written over her features and it makes Clarke’s heart skip a beat. “I am, actually.” There’s no teasing in her tone and now it’s Clarke’s turn to blush.

She wonders if Lexa enjoys making her blush as much as she does.

(The smirk that follows makes her think she does.)

“Without you I’m pretty sure Indra wouldn’t have been so receptive to my proposal,” she says and Clarke’s glad she’s steering the conversation back to casual territory.

“Also, I would have never found this amazing ice cream place,” she adds a moment later. She licks her ice cream again, something she’s done multiple times since they bought them, but this time she does it slowly, twirling her tongue over the top.

Clarke is pretty sure it’s an innocent gesture—or it was supposed to be, anyway, until the slow movement of Lexa’s tongue hitched Clarke’s breath. Now Lexa’s watching her intently and Clarke freezes.

She tries to hide the way her throat has gone completely dry and the way her breathing has sped up, but she’s not sure for how much longer she’ll be able to hide her body’s reaction when Lexa is looking at her like that; pupils dilated, eyes a darker shade of green.

If she could, she would lean in and kiss her right now.

Especially after Lexa bites her bottom lip, eyes drawn to Clarke’s. Clarke involuntarily licks her lips, enjoying the way Lexa’s eyes follow her every move.

Stupid Raven and her stupid rules.

Are we sure she meant them?

Clarke clears her throat, shakes her head, looks away. Does whatever she can to put a stop to this. It was hard enough when she felt attracted to Lexa all on her own, but now that Lexa is being obvious it, too?

She’s not sure how she’s going to survive the rest of her stay.

“What other places have I been missing?” Lexa asks then, probably done enjoying making Clarke squirm. Her voice sounds a little rough, but Clarke tries to ignore it.

“Hm, let me think.” Clarke taps her chin to emphasize her words. “There’s this really good bagel shop that serves them for breakfast. That one’s really good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Make sure you get there early because the lines can get pretty long. Oh, and there’s also this place that has really good poutine. The best one on this side of the border if you ask me.”

“That sounds really good, actually.”

“Yeah. You should definitely go.”

She has to fight really hard to not invite herself, although it’s pointless when Lexa says, “Maybe next time I’m here you can show me?”

Clarke smiles, trying to ignore the way her stomach flutters at the thought of seeing Lexa again.

“Maybe,” she says, trying to play it casual.

Lexa smiles and goes back to her ice cream, both turning to look back at the water. The warmer day also brought less wind, so it’s just an endless sheet of blue and Clarke’s content to just sit there and watch as the sun begins to set.

::::

Monday morning rolls around and Clarke is happy to be able to sleep in and enjoy her first day off.

After getting dressed and ready for the day, she walks to the kitchen to make some coffee, but the guest bedroom’s open door catches her attention. She looks inside only to find it completely empty; no suitcase by the dresser and the sheets have been taken off the bed, left in a pile in the corner.

She knew Lexa was leaving today, but she never thought to ask at what time. She’s slightly disappointed to realize she must have left already and Clarke didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

Although Lexa mentioned on more than one occasion that she would be coming back, she never explicitly said she would be staying with them again. There’s a chance this was a one time thing and Lexa will have come and gone just like Clarke originally predicted.

'Did _you see Lexa before she_ left?' she texts Raven. Her reply comes soon after.

'No. _I think she left super early, all I saw was the note she left on the dining room_ table.'

Clarke walks over to the dining area and finds the piece of paper Raven’s talking about. She picks it up to read the note Lexa left on a yellow post-it.

 _Thanks for everything, my stay  
_ _was perfect. I’m sorry I didn’t  
_ _know what to do with the sheets, I  
_ _hope it’s okay I left them on the bed.  
_ _Thanks again, it was great meeting you  
_ _both.  
_ _\- Lexa_

No mentions of coming back.

Clarke sighs, trying to push the disappointment down enough so she can ignore it.

If this was it, that’s fine. There’s plenty of other pretty girls and boys to hang out with and maybe, possibly kiss.

Still, she anxiously waits for Raven to get home so they can check their listing together. She wants to see if at least Lexa left a good review, although based on her note she doubts there’s any chance it’s anything bad.

“Are you okay?” Raven asks. She points at Clarke’s bouncing knee.

Clarke nods, wills it to stop. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just anxious to see what she said.”

Raven lifts an eyebrow at her and Clarke shakes her head. “For no other reason than to make sure she liked her stay enough to recommend it to other people. Otherwise how are we supposed to get more guests?”

The argument doesn’t seem to fully convince Raven, but she drops it anyway.

“Ah, here we go,” Raven says once the page has loaded. She clicks on the review link under the notifications icon and both of them lean closer to the screen to read what Lexa wrote.

Lexa Woods – ★★★★★   
_Great place. The location is ideal if you want to be close to downtown, the room and common spaces were very clean and the hosts really hospitable. If you’re looking for a place to stay, I would highly recommend it._

They both sigh in relief and smile at each other.

“We did it,” Raven says, holding her hand up for Clarke to high-five. “See. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No. I guess not,” Clarke admits quietly. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to stop the question that follows. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

“I don’t know.” Raven shrugs. “Dammit. Maybe we should have told her her next stay does include you in the services provided,” Raven jokes and Clarke playfully punches her shoulder. She rubs the spot and laughs. “What? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I never said I wanted to sleep with her, Raven.”

“You sure looked like it.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Will you stop? I admitted she’s attractive, but that’s it. There’s plenty of attractive people out there, you know this. I’m not so desperate I need to kiss the one person willing to pay us to stay here.”

“You’re telling me, given the opportunity, you wouldn’t have kissed her?”

How can she explain to Raven that technically there’s a chance she already had an opportunity, but she didn’t take it?

She still thinks about the day before, sitting on that bench. The way Lexa looked at her, like if Clarke were to lean in she wouldn’t object. Still wonders what it would have felt like to kiss her.

But if Lexa doesn’t reach out again—well, she supposes she’ll never get to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you get any brownie points? I hope you did.
> 
> Fun Fact: The draft for this story had the title 'Airbnb(e with me)' because I think I'm hilarious. And part of me still wonders if I should've gone with that instead.
> 
> Fun Fact about Fun Facts: Fun is subjective and that could be considered a not-fun-at-all fact by some.
> 
> I crack myself up sometimes.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you feel so inclined, I'm more than happy to hear what you think :)


	2. Contact Added (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! A couple of things I need to say before letting you read this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Due to popular demand I changed the title of the story. Yes, it was both popular (there were dozens of us, _dozens_!) and a demand (not really, I'm kidding about that one, but a lot of people seemed to like it and I do, too).
> 
> 2\. My idea was to switch POVs each chapter and separate them that way, but this second chapter has grown and become a beast on its own, so I've decided to split it into two parts. In the future, if other chapters run just as long I may end up doing the same, but for the sake of not confusing everyone I'll be labeling those chapters with "Title Name (Part One)" and "Title Name (Part Two)" so it's clear they're both part of the same narrative. I hope that will help. So this one and the next part will be from Lexa's POV.
> 
> 3\. Probably the most important one: thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos and commented so far :)
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

The city and the crazy, chaotic life that follows it everywhere has always been something Lexa has enjoyed. She likes the fast-paced environment, having to solve problems as quickly as possible if you don’t want to get lost in the turmoil. But just the same, she also enjoys the tranquility smaller towns provide, which makes this the perfect job for her.

She loves being back home. Loves walking the streets of downtown surrounded by high-rise buildings just as much as she enjoys walking through quiet downtown areas with lots of history and not much else going on.

They both fill her body with life in very different ways. And that’s how she feels right now—full of life even after the early drive back home and the busy morning she had.

Only now does she have the chance to take a breather thanks to Anya’s invitation to have lunch together so they can catch up on Lexa’s trip.

“So, you’d say overall it was worth it?” Anya asks between bites of her sandwich. They’re eating at one of their favorite restaurants just a few blocks away from their office.

“Definitely,” Lexa says with a nod. They had texted back and forth during the trip, so Anya isn’t completely out of the loop, but this is their chance to talk specifics. “I think there’s a lot of great products we could bring over.”

“That’s good to hear. The organizers are starting to trust us with more space, so it’ll be great if we are able to bring more stuff.”

“Yeah. Some of them are a little reticent, but I’m sure I’ll be able to convince them. Clarke was really helpful with Indra. She makes these amazing jams and preserves, I think people will love them and I’m pretty sure she’ll be working with us.”

“I’m excited to try them.”

“I brought samples, remind me to give you some when we go back to the office.” Lexa takes a bite of her salad. “I wish I would’ve thought of bringing you a sample from this ice cream place.” She hums just thinking about it. “It was so good. Clarke convinced me to go even though I didn’t want to—you know how I feel about ice cream in winter. But it was absolutely worth it.”

Anya raises an eyebrow at her and Lexa continues, “No, I promise. Next time I’ll buy a pint to bring home just so you can try it.”

“I’ll believe you when I taste it myself.” Anya sounds sceptical.

“Clarke also said there’s a great bagel shop. I want to try that, too. I wonder if they would package their bagels so we can sell them? I imagine everything is locally sourced and—” She has to stop talking because Anya is giving her the strangest look. “What?”

“Okay, I’m confused,” Anya says. She puts her sandwich down even though she was about to take a bite. “Who’s this guy?”

“What guy?’

“This-this Clark guy you keep talking about. Is he a vendor? I don’t understand.”

Lexa’s eyebrows knit close together. What is she talking about? “Clarke’s not a guy. She’s a– she’s one of the hosts, from the place I stayed at?”

Confusion practically disappears in an instant and it’s replaced with complete understanding.

“Ahh, okay. See,” Anya says, pointing her finger at Lexa. “Now _that_ makes more sense. So you got the hots for your host?” Anya laughs at her own play on words and Lexa has to roll her eyes. That was lame, even for Anya’s standards.

“Okay, first of all, that did not warrant that cackle—”

“Agree to disagree,” Anya says, arms crossed over her chest.

“Second of all, I don’t have the ‘hots’,” she uses air-quotes, “for anyone.”

“Okay, Lexa. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, I told you and I meant it. I’m focusing 100% on the business.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun,” Anya says, wiggling her eyebrows. “No one said anything about marrying the girl, Lexa. You’re still allowed to enjoy yourself. In fact, last night _I_ enjoyed myself very—”

“Lalala,” Lexa interrupts. She covers her ears and closes her eyes. “No, thank you, I’m good.”

Anya laughs. She knew exactly what she was doing, always happy to make Lexa feel uncomfortable.

“Anyway,” Lexa says. “Tell me how your meeting went on Friday.” She goes back to eating her salad, pushing thoughts of Clarke and what Anya said away from her mind.

She has other things to focus on right now.

::::

A week goes by before Lexa has a clear picture of what her schedule will look like for the next couple of weeks. It's only then that she opens up the browser on her computer and goes to Airbnb’s website to look for accommodations for her upcoming trip.

“You said from the 20th until the 24th will work?” Lexa asks Anya from her spot behind her desk.

Looking through her phone, Anya takes a moment to confirm the dates, but nods eventually.

“Yeah, I think that should be fine. Nia scheduled our meeting for the 26th, so hopefully you can secure some vendors and we can put something together before then.”

They both sigh at the prospect of dealing with her. Nia’s in charge of the biggest farmer’s market they participate in and even though they haven’t been kicked out yet, it always seems like she’s rooting against them, looking for reasons to cut them out.

It’s been like that from the beginning, neither one of them understanding where her dislike comes from, but it’s not enough to stop them. They’re both absolutely determined to keep pushing forward to make their business grow.

It’s what they’ve been dreaming of for years now.

“A couple of people I met during my trip already reached out. I’ll let them know I’m coming back so we can move forward if they’re truly interested.”

“Perfect.”

With that conversation out of the way, Lexa moves on to check the listings. Her first instinct is to go to her existing messages. She clicks on Raven and Clarke’s profile to see if their room will be available in three weeks, a sense of relief coursing through her when the calendar appears open.

She types a message three different times before finally sending the request. She hopes it doesn’t sound too unprofessional, but also friendly enough.

Whatever her thing with Clarke is aside—is it just flirting? Is Clarke actually interested? Was she just being friendly?—, Lexa really enjoyed staying at their house. The bed was comfortable, the location was great and she felt at ease, which was her biggest concern about staying at someone else’s place.

Both Clarke and Raven managed to make her feel like she was welcomed and not an intruder, which was completely unexpected and she’d be more than happy to stay there again.

Just like the last time she had sent a request, she doesn’t hear back from them until later that day, but when she does, it's to a message from Airbnb confirming her request was accepted and a message from the hosts saying they would be more than happy to have her stay with them again.

The message ends with ‘ _you’re our favorite guest’._ It makes Lexa laugh. She’s pretty sure she’s still their _only_ guest.

She wonders whether it was Raven or Clarke who wrote it, although it doesn’t really matter. She appreciates it anyway, and so she replies in kind.

‘ _I’m glad to hear that. You guys are my favorite hosts._ ’

She’s surprised when she gets another message not long after.

‘ _Okay, but if you had to choose, who’s your favoritest?_ ’

‘ _And don’t worry. I know that’s not a word._ ’

Something tells Lexa it’s definitely Clarke who’s messaging her, so she keeps that in mind when she replies.

‘ _Tough one, but I would have to say Raven. Her cooking is really extraordinary._ ’

Her heart stops beating when the next message comes through, momentarily paralized by the words written in front of her.

‘ _Your reservation has been canceled._ ’

She refreshes the page several times, but the reservation doesn’t go way, her ability to message them still there. She spends at least two whole minutes freaking out, hitting F5 repeatedly until she finally realizes it wasn’t actually true, just Clarke’s revenge for choosing Raven over her.

Well played, Clarke.

‘ _Okay, fine. It’s a tie. Raven’s cooking is amazing, but Clarke is very good at keeping us all safe._ ’

She knows she’s going to regret sending it, but that doesn’t stop her.

And it’s oh-so-completely worth it when the next reply is: ‘ _You have been blocked._ ’

::::

The next morning is spent on the phone, reaching out to her contacts to schedule meetings for the Friday and Saturday she’s going to be there. Most of them seem interested enough to meet, and even though Lexa knows it doesn’t mean they will actually accept their proposition, it’s still a step in the right direction.

It’s late in the afternoon when she gets a notification on her phone saying she has a new message on Airbnb. She hadn’t replied to Clarke’s last message and Lexa wonders if she’s decided to tell her she ‘unblocked’ her.

When she opens the inbox within the app, however, she sees a very cryptic and confusing message.

‘ _There were_ three _puppies and_ six _cats, but_ zero _hamsters. If_ five _bunnies hopped_ five _times for_ five _hours every_ five _days,_ two _of them would feel tired and would probably go to bed at_ nine _so they can wake up at_ seven _._ ’

Lexa frowns, completely puzzled. What the hell?

She struggles to understand what the message is about. For a moment she wonders if maybe one of them accidentally fell asleep on the keyboard, but that’s too many consecutive coherent words, even if the overall message doesn’t make sense whatsoever.

It drives her crazy. Crazy to the point that she needs to interrupt Anya to ask for help.

“Will you please help me figure out what the hell this is?” Lexa asks. She walks over to Anya’s desk and leans forward, elbows on the wooden surface so she can show her the message.

Anya takes the phone from her hands and reads it. At first her eyebrows knit in confusion, much like Lexa’s had the first time around, but about halfway through she seems to realize something and by the end she’s just laughing.

“Oh, Lexa,” she says. She hands her the phone back and pats her shoulder.

She’s being smug and Lexa doesn’t like it.

“What is it?”

“Who sent you that message?”

“I would assume Clarke?”

Anya laughs again. “Lexa, Lexa, Lexa,” she repeats in that same tone. “What do you see?” She points at the screen.

“Honestly? Nothing but a bunch of nonsense.”

“Okay,” Anya says, stretching the word. “But, do you see a pattern at all?”

Lexa looks at the message again. Now that she’s paying closer attention instead of focusing on the overall message certain words stand out. They all happen to be numbers.

“360... 555... 5297,” she reads out loud.

“What does that sound like to you?”

Lexa sighs, rolling her eyes at herself. She should’ve been able to figure that out all on her own. Now Anya is going to be using this to make fun of her every chance she gets.

Her cheeks turn red, partly because she’s embarrassed she couldn’t figure it out on her own and partly because a very attractive girl just managed to slip her phone number through Airbnb’s defenses.

Attractive _and_ smart.

“Either you wipe that stupid smile off your face or you admit you do have the hots for the host.”

Again with that lame joke.

“Whatever,” Lexa says. She returns to her desk and chooses to ignore any and all options given: stupid smile is still on her face and she’s not admiting she has anything for anyone.

This is just them being friendly. Lexa’s staying at their house afterall. The least they can do is get comfortable around each other, right?

Of course.

She writes the phone number down on a post-it and then types it into her contacts, adding it under ‘Clarke?’.

She’s still not one hundred percent sure it’s her. Just, like, ninety-eight percent.

No more than five minutes go by and she’s sending a text, unable to contain herself. She tried to play it cool, she really, _really_ did, but five minutes was all she could wait.

‘ _Raven?_ ’ is her opening text and god, she doesn’t know what it is, but she absolutely loves riling Clarke up.

‘ _I’m seriously going to block you._ ’

As much as she tries to contain the laughter that bubbles in her chest, she can’t stop it when it comes pouring out. 

It alerts Anya, who looks at her, eyebrows practically reaching the top of her head.

“Nothing,” Lexa mumbles, looking down at her phone. She decides to stop messing around and sends an honest text this time.

‘ _Hi, Clarke._ ’

‘ _Hey :)_ ’

It’s so dumb. It’s just one word and a simple smiley face, but it manages to make her heart skip a beat and it puts a smile on her own face.

She really needs to get a grip.

Doubt creeps in when she realizes she doesn’t know what to say next. It was Clarke who gave her her number, but past the initial hello, Lexa’s not sure what else they’re supposed to talk about. Did Clarke want something? Or did she really just want to say hello?

She doesn’t know how much time she wastes trying to figure out what her next move should be, but it’s long enough for Clarke to be the one to text her again.

‘ _Can I call you?_ ’

The words take her by surprise, breath catching in her throat. Her questions still remain—what does Clarke want to talk about? Is there a specific reason for the phone call? But she realizes none of that matters if she gets to hear Clarke’s voice.

She really hopes Anya won’t complain about her taking a personal call at work.

(Who is she kidding. Of course she’s going to complain. But it may very well be worth it.)

‘ _Sure_ ,’ she replies a moment later. It doesn’t take long for her phone to vibrate in her hand. ‘Clarke?’ appears on the screen with two buttons: one red and one green.

Lexa accepts the call.

“Hello?”

Anya looks up when she speaks, but goes right back to her task when she sees Lexa on the phone.

“Hey,” Clarke says, breathy. It makes Lexa’s stomach flutter and she needs to close her eyes for a moment to calm down. How is it possible that something as simple as someone’s voice makes her feel like she’s fourteen again? This is ridiculous.

“Hi, Clarke.”

Anya looks up again, this time a questioning look in her eyes. Lexa shrugs, averting her gaze and turning in her office chair so she’s facing the wall, her back to Anya. She doesn’t want to deal with her mocking face right now.

“Hey, Lexa,” Clarke says with a soft laugh.

“You already said hey,” Lexa teases. She likes the way Clarke randomly seems to stop functioning sometimes, like she did when she first arrived at her house.

“What are you, the greeting police?” That earns her a laugh.

“You’re right. You can say hi as many times as you want, Clarke.”

“Damn right I can.”

The line goes silent for a moment. Lexa wonders if Clarke is also struggling to find a reason for this call. It brings a smile to her face thinking maybe there’s a chance she just wanted to reach out.

But just in case, she feels the need to ask, “Did you need anything?”

She regrets it the minute she says it. She didn’t mean to imply Clarke needed to have a reason to call, but now she’s put her on the spot. She can tell by the way the line has gone even more silent until Clarke just says an elongated ‘Uhh’.

“I-I forgot, I guess.” Lexa can almost picture the blush that’s creeping up on her. “I can let you go, sorry.”

“No, no,” Lexa rushes to say. “You don’t have to-I didn’t mean to-” Ugh. Why can’t she just be calm and collected? “Don’t hang up.” It almost sounds like she’s begging.

Geez, it’s like she has zero chills. Ze-ro.

She finds her embarrassment is worth it when she can practically hear Clarke smile through the phone.

“I won’t.”

Relieved she managed to dig herself out of the stupid useless-lesbian hole she had dug herself into, she tries to go for a normal conversation.

“How’s your day going?” She starts picking at invisible threads. For some reason she feels the need to keep her hands busy while she focuses on the voice coming from the other side of the line.

“Pretty lazy. I have today off, so I’ve just been doing stuff around the house.” Lexa hears shuffling and then something that sounds like Clarke sitting down on the couch. She smiles at the image, Clarke probably lying down, phone against her ear. “Raven’s going to be home in a little bit and I think we’re gonna go hang out with Octavia.”

“That sounds fun. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here at work. How is this fair?”

“Not all of us can lead amazing, exciting lives, Lexa.”

“Okay, your day doesn’t sound _that_ great.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t get to hang out with us.”

“I mean,” Lexa starts. She bites her lip, wonders if she should say what she wants to say next.

(Of course she does. It’s like she lives for this stuff now.)

“I do think Raven’s pretty cool.”

 _Click_.

The line goes dead.

Lexa moves her phone away from her ear and stares at the screen with wide eyes. It no longer shows any call options, just her home screen.

Did Clarke just hung up on her?

She can’t believe Clarke just hung up on her.

She goes to her contacts and taps Clarke’s name. Maybe it was an accident. There’s a chance she—it goes straight to voicemail after ringing once. Not an accident, then.

She may not be able to call, but there’s always the option to send a message.

Hah. Good luck hanging up on a text.

‘ _I can’t believe you just hung up on me_.’

‘ _I’m sorry, new phone. Who’s this?_ ’

“Oh my god,” Lexa groans out loud, burying her face in her hands. She chuckles and shakes her head.

“Are you okay there?” Anya asks. Lexa turns around to face her again. After Lexa nods in reply, Anya says, “Are you done flirting now? Will you get back to work?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” she defends. If she was, the fact that she just got hung up on would speak very poorly of her flirting skills.

“Hi, Clarke. Hi, Lexa. Hi again. Hello. Please don’t hang up,” Anya says each and every one of those words with a mocking tone and Lexa feels her cheeks burning. She should’ve realized turning her chair around wasn’t a sound-proof method.

Sometimes ignoring Anya is the best recourse, so instead of dignifying her with another answer she buries her nose in her phone again.

‘ _I’ll ignore your rude behavior and I’ll just wish you a good rest of your day instead. I’m afraid I have to get back to work,_ ’ she types.

She doesn’t expect to get any more messages from Clarke, so she’s surprised when another text comes in no more than a minute later.

‘ _Raven’s here so I have to get going anyway. I hope you have a good day too, Lexa :)_ ’

Even though she didn’t really think Clarke was actually upset when she hung up the phone, Lexa’s still relieved to see that smiley face. It’s all the encouragement she needs to send her next message:

‘ _Tell Raven I said hi_.’

One last text comes through and the middle-finger emoji has never made her laugh so hard in her life.

She doesn’t even need to glance up to know the look Anya’s giving her. To avoid her gaze, Lexa quickly twists her chair just enough to focus on her computer and get back to work.

Absolutely nothing to see here.

::::

The sky has cleared for probably the first time in weeks and it’s a welcomed break from the gloomy winter days they usually have to deal with. But when the sun comes out in winter it has a weird effect—it makes you think it’s going to be all warm when you step outside, but usually it ends up being even colder than when it was hiding behind the clouds.

Lexa always seems to forget about this, though, and she regrets her wardrobe choice for the day now that she’s stuck walking to the market where they’re set up this weekend with nothing more than a shirt and a thin sweater.

She hopes they at least have those tall standing heaters around, otherwise she’s probably going to freeze to death.

The market is about ten minutes away from her current location and she takes the opportunity to fish her phone out of her pocket to make a phone call. The phone rings a few times, enough that she contemplates hanging up, but Clarke picks up before she does.

“Hey,” Clarke greets. She sounds out of breath and Lexa has to strain her ear to actually make out the word, the noise around Clarke almost too loud for her to hear anything else.

“Is this a bad time?” Lexa asks. It’s Saturday morning and Lexa knew Clarke would be working already, but sometimes if it’s early enough they get to talk before it gets too crazy.

Seems like today isn’t one of those days.

“No, not at all.” She hears more shuffling and then the sound becomes muffled, although Lexa can still make out Clarke’s voice. She sounds exasperated. Lexa can’t tell exactly what she’s saying, but it definitely seems like she’s scolding someone. “Listen to Niylah, guys,” she hears Clarke say. She must have returned her phone closer to her mouth. “Come on, let’s go.”

The noise slowly fades away. Lexa hears what sounds like a door closing and a sigh of relief escapes Clarke’s lips. “Finally. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry,” Lexa says. There’s noise around her, too—cars are driving by and a siren can be heard in the distance—but hopefully Clarke can still hear her.

“Ugh, kids are the worst. Did you know that? Did you know they don’t listen, like, at all?”

Lexa knows it’s a rhetorical question, but she answers anyway. “Not from personal experience, but yeah. So I’ve heard.” Lexa can’t help but smile. It’s not even eleven yet and Clarke already sounds exhausted. It’s kind of adorable. “Another crazy weekend?”

This has become a sort of common occurrence. Lexa and Clarke will exchange text messages throughout the week, and occasionally will indulge in a phone call or two. Lexa has tried not thinking too much about it; she’s made a new friend that she enjoys talking to, that’s all there is to it.

No need to overanalyze this situation, not even when Anya gives her funny looks when she’s laughing at something Clarke said over text or when she playfully gags when she catches one of their phone conversations.

She’s been enjoying getting to know Clarke and that’s it. Nothing wrong with that.

“Lexa. I don’t think I’ve been here for more than an hour and I’m already ready to go home.”

Lexa laughs, if only feeling a little bit sorry for the other woman. “Do you have to stay all day today again?” Her answer comes in the form of a groan. “I’m sorry,” is all she can offer.

“It’s fine. I’m just being moody. This weather’s starting to get to me.”

“Is it raining there?” Lexa asks, even though she knows the answer. For some reason she’s picked up the habit of checking not just the local weather, but also that of Clarke’s town up north for the last couple of weeks.

She tells herself it’s so she can keep an eye out on the kind of conditions the farmers she could potentially work with are dealing with. She doesn’t allow any room to question it more than that.

“Yes. All I need is a little bit of sun. Just a little, that’s all I’m asking.”

“If you were here you could be enjoying some sun right now,” Lexa says. “It’s cold, but at least sunny.”

“That’s not fair,” Clarke says and Lexa can almost hear her pout. “Where are you? Are you outside?”

“Yeah. I’m on my way to the market, just a few blocks away.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“You gotta show me. Let me see the sun. If it can’t be bothered to show up here, at least let me see it.”

“I’m not taking a picture of the sun, Clarke,” Lexa says. “Just Google it.”

“No. I wanna see it live. Turn on your video camera and show me.”

“Clarke. I’m on the sidewalk, outside. There’s people around me.” It would be embarrassing.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice has lowered, it’s softer and Lexa hates that Clarke has somehow managed to learn in such a short amount of time just how to say things in order to get what she wants. 

Lexa sighs. “Yes, Clarke?” she asks.

“Please?” Said just as low, just as soft.

She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips, and with resignation she says, “Fine. Look at your phone,” she tells her.

She stops walking for a moment and pulls her phone in front of her face. Once the screen has lit up she changes the call’s mode to video and resumes her steps. She doesn’t want to be late.

It opens with the front-facing camera on, but she only has to look at her own face for a second before Clarke’s video kicks in.

Her steps falter and she almost trips when her eyes take Clarke in.

She’s obviously hiding in her office like Lexa expected, her hair slightly disheveled. She’s wearing what Lexa can only assume is her work clothes—a light blue collared shirt that makes her eyes pop and even though she looked tired the first second the video was on, her eyes are now shining and she’s smiling brightly.

It takes Lexa’s breath away.

“Hey,” Clarke breathes, soft smile still in place.

“Hi,” Lexa says softly. She has stopped walking now, being on time be damned. She wants to take the time to appreciate the face that’s currently covering her entire screen.

Would it be creepy to take a screenshot right now?

Yeah, probably…

“Fuck, I’ve–” Whatever Clarke was going to say, Lexa doesn’t get to hear it. She stops talking and shakes her head before continuing, clearly not following her previous train of thought. “I know you have to get going, but let me see it. Show me that sun.”

Lexa nods, tapping her phone to flip camera. She’s showing the sidewalk for a brief moment until she moves her phone up, arms stretched out, pointing to the sky.

Under any other circumstances she would feel ridiculous holding her phone up like she is right now, but she’s too busy watching Clarke’s smile grow bigger as she takes in what Lexa’s showing her. She sighs contentedly, dreamy almost, and Lexa’s transfixed.

“Okay. That helped,” Clarke says.

“Yeah?” Lexa can see Clarke nod and that’s her queue to lower her phone. She flips the camera again, adjusting the distance so Clarke can see her whole face.

“Hey,” Clarke repeats and Lexa laughs.

“You’re doing it again,” Lexa says.

“You agreed I could say hi as many times as I wanted.”

“That’s true.”

“So, hi.”

Lexa laughs again, shakes her head. It makes strands of hair fall over her face and she uses one hand to push them behind her ear. It’s not lost on her how Clarke’s eyes follow her every move.

“Hi, Clarke.”

Once again she thinks how ridiculous she would feel under any other circumstances, just staring at her phone with what she knows is a stupid smile, but right now she truly, honestly can’t bring herself to care.

“Do you have to go?” Clarke asks.

“I’m afraid so.”

A sigh. “Fine. But–” Clarke bites her bottom lip and Lexa’s entire stomach flip-flops. “We should do this more often,” she says.

“We should,” Lexa agrees.

“You should also just–” Lexa thinks she’s going to melt under Clarke’s intense stare. “You should just come visit already, Lex.”

The way she’s shortened her name doesn’t go unnoticed and Lexa’s afraid to think about what it means when her heart threatens to beat out of her chest. “As soon as I can,” she promises.

“Yeah?”

Lexa nods. “Yeah,” she replies, breathless.

A knock startles Clarke, makes Lexa laugh at her small jump. “Clarke?” Lexa hears another voice calling her name. “I need your help out here.”

“I’m coming!” Clarke calls. She returns her attention to Lexa with an apologetic smile. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah, me too,” Lexa says, paying attention to the time again. Shit, she’s late.

“Okay. Talk to you soon?” Lexa nods. “Have a good day, Lexa.”

“You too, Clarke. Good luck out there.”

Clarke smiles and Lexa commits the image to memory before willing herself to hit the ‘end’ button.

Her upcoming trip could not come fast enough.

::::

Popping sounds are coming from the microwave as the bag of popcorn begins to heat up, going around and around on the glass plate. Lexa watches it, not because she’s particularly interested in it, but because she’s lost in thought and that’s where her eyes have landed.

There’s been a shift in her and Clarke’s means of communication. Ever since that video call on the way to the market last weekend, whenever they’ve had the chance to use video instead of just audio when talking, they’ve done it.

It doesn’t happen too often—definitely less than Lexa would like, both of them usually too busy between work and hanging out with friends—but when it does it just makes Lexa’s whole day.

Like two days ago, when she had a shit day at work. One of their biggest sellers announced they weren’t going to be able to participate this year after they had issues at their farm and they hadn’t been able to grow as much produce as they had anticipated.

It sucked and both Anya and her spent the rest of the day scrambling, trying to figure out how they were going to fill that pretty big gap. By the time she had made it home, she was ready to slip into her pajamas and just call it a day.

But Clarke had called probably ten minutes after she had made it through her front door and after just two minutes of being on the phone with her she already felt better.

Sure, the problem was still there. They still had yet to figure out a real, tangible solution, but it all seemed to fade into the background when she was met with Clarke’s beautiful smile and gorgeous blue eyes.

A smile and eyes she can’t stop thinking about.

“Earth to Lexa.”

The words bring her back to the present and she has to blink a couple of times to remember what she was doing.

“That microwave beeped like two minutes ago,” Anya says from the couch. “Would you mind snapping out of it long enough to at least bring it over?”

Unfortunately for Lexa, Anya is pretty perceptive. It doesn’t help that she knows Lexa entirely too well, so of course she’s noticed the increase in communication between her and Clarke.

And _of course_ she teases her about it every chance she gets.

“What, did the microwave remind you of Clarke? What with its spinning and numbers and beeping?”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Anya,” she says. She finally starts moving again, opening the microwave door to take the popcorn bag out of it, careful to grab it by the edge so she doesn’t burn herself.

“Sorry. Is it more because of its ability to _heat things up_?”

She doesn’t need to look over to know Anya’s wiggling her eyebrows.

For whatever reason, her increase in communication with Clarke has been accompanied with an increase in Anya’s lame jokes and she doesn’t know how to make it stop.

“Ha, ha,” Lexa fake laughs. She dumps the popcorn into a bowl and adds some movie theater butter and salt before walking over to the couch to sit next to her (very annoying) friend.

The bowl sits between them, both of them reaching in every now and then to eat some, while they watch the movie Anya picked for them this evening.

Whenever work or life gets stressful, they always try to make sure to take a step back and just relax. Sometimes they go out for a drink, others they stay in and forget about their problems by occupying their minds with a movie or a TV show.

It usually does the trick and Lexa’s grateful she works with someone she can do all of those things with.

Even if said someone is annoyingly relentless with her teasing.

“Who was that?” Anya asks between mouthfuls of popcorn. Based on her tone, though, Lexa thinks she already knows the answer.

“None of your business,” she says. Clarke had just texted her and she thought she had been sneaky about replying, but apparently nothing gets past Anya.

“Mmhm.”

“What?”

“You know your face immediately gives you away, right?”

Lexa tries to school her features, but it may be too late. Her face already broke into a dumb smile like it usually does when she hears from Clarke and now Anya’s all up in her case.

She shrugs to brush it off.

“She was just replying to a text I sent earlier.” She downplays it like her fingers aren’t itching to check her phone again. It had buzzed against her thigh, but she doesn’t want to look at it again or she’ll never hear the end of it.

“You’re dying to text her back, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Mmhm.”

There she goes with that stupid _mmhm_ again.

“I don’t. It’s fine.”

“Sure, Lexa.”

“Just, watch the movie, Anya.”

“So you can sneak in a reply?” Anya lifts an eyebrow at her when Lexa opens her mouth to deny it, and it shuts her up. Who is she kidding? Definitely not Anya, apparently. “I don’t mind if you text her.”

Lexa shrugs. “We’re hanging out and watching a movie. I don’t want to be rude.”

And she means it. As much as she wants to look at her phone to read Clarke’s message, she’s happy to spend time with Anya and she doesn’t want to ruin that. Or seem ungrateful for her company.

“Oh, come on, Lexa,” she says with an eye roll. “We’re adults. I don’t mind if you wanna text the girl you’re into.”

“I’m not into–”

“Don’t insult me.”

Brows furrow. “Insult you? I wasn’t–”

“You were going to deny it, which is insulting on two fronts. First,” she holds out one finger, “because that means you were going to lie to me. Second,” another finger comes up, “because you’re underestimating our friendship and how well I know you if you think you can actually pull it off.”

Lexa sinks into the couch, deflected. “Fine. Maybe I am, slightly, just a little bit, into her.”

Admitting it out loud shouldn’t be that hard. It shouldn’t make her nervous or make her heart beat faster or her stomach flutter. But it does all of those things, because the last thing she expected was to meet someone like Clarke.

Someone who isn’t afraid to meet her challenges and push back. Someone who can brighten up her day with a single text or phone call. Someone who has the ability to turn her into a puddly mess, while simultaneously igniting a fire within her she doesn’t know she’ll be able to control.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Lexa says. “I meant it when I said I’m focusing on our business, Anya.”

“I know that, Lexa. You don’t have to keep repeating it.”

But she feels like she does, because they came too close to–

“Stop beating yourself up,” Anya interrupts her thoughts. She places a hand on her knee just long enough to give it a squeeze. “Business is good, you’re doing great, I’m doing spectacularly.” Lexa rolls her eyes. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, too.”

Her phone buzzes again as she mulls over Anya’s words.

“You really don’t mind?” She asks, pointing at her pocket.

“Go for it. Movie’s almost over anyway.”

She gives her a grateful smile and pulls out her phone. She unlocks the screen and opens the messaging app.

“I don’t mind if you text her, just—don’t sext while I’m here.” Her nose is scrunched up and Lexa laughs nervously.

“We don’t–we’re not– _Anya_.”

“What?”

“We don’t sext!” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Lexa has done it in the past, but that’s not what her and Clarke’s conversations have been about. “Oh my god, is that what you think we’ve been doing this whole time?”

“Wait,” Anya says. She looks at her with disbelieving eyes. “You’re telling me this whole time, whenever she’s texted you and you smile like a dumbass, it’s not because she sent you a picture of her boobs or some text about how she’d like to–“ She stops talking, pretends to look disgusted. “I’m not even gonna say it.”

“God, no.” She thinks her cheeks are burning more than ever, which is saying a lot because she’s blushed several times in the last couple of weeks. “I can’t believe you thought–”

“And I can’t believe you haven’t–” She sounds exasperated. “What the fuck do you guys talk about, then?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa shrugs. “Our days? Work and stuff we are doing and–”

“Ew, gross.”

Lexa laughs at her childish reply. “Anya, that’s not what we—we’re just friends.”

“Lexa. _We_ are friends. We even work together and I don’t talk to you as much.”

“It’s different. We don’t get to see each other, so we text and stuff,” Lexa says with a shrug.

“When you were gone that weekend, how many times did you text me?”

Lexa doesn’t answer. She doesn’t like where Anya’s going with this.

“You could’ve texted me a hundred times and it still wouldn’t have been as much as you’ve texted her in the past _day_.”

“Okay, fine,” Lexa says, admitting defeat. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, I think you need to stop lying to yourself.”

She’s not. It’s not a lie. They are friends. Or becoming friends, anyway. They occasionally talk over the phone, exchange a few messages throughout the day, check in on each other, have random conversations.

All very normal, very friendly things.

“I think you just need to stop living vicariously through me,” Lexa teases, trying to redirect the attention.

“Oh, please. I got more action this past week than you have in the past year and a half.”

_Touché._

::::

Lexa and Clarke only exchanged a couple of text messages throughout the evening. When Lexa had brought up that she was hanging out with Anya, Clarke had texted her one last time telling her to enjoy the rest of her night.

She knows she hasn’t been talking to Clarke for that long, and she’s certainly in no position to assume she actually knows her, but something felt off—there was a shift sometime between their first messages and the last, like something had happened.

She tries to shake it off, blames it on just a misinterpretation because tone is hard to convey through text, but even after Anya is gone for the night she can’t stop thinking about it.

She wants to make sure Clarke is okay.

‘ _Hey. Are you awake?_ ’

It’s only a few minutes past eleven, so maybe there’s a chance she hasn’t gone to sleep yet.

‘ _Yeah_.’

That one-word reply only furthers her suspicions. She doesn’t even think about it before hitting the call button.

“Hello?” Clarke answers after only a couple of rings.

“Hey,” Lexa says softly, tentative. Clarke’s voice lacks the cheerfulness she’s grown so used to by now. “Is it too late?”

“Not at all. I’m not–” Lexa hears rustling until she assumes Clarke is able to settle down somewhere more comfortable. “It’s fine.”

“What's wrong?”

Clarke sighs. “Nothing.” She sounds defeated.

Lexa knows that’s the default answer. Kinda like when people ask you how you are and you always reply with ‘fine’ even if you’re not. But she wishes Clarke would feel comfortable enough to give her more than the go-to answer.

That’s what you tell people who aren’t really asking because they care, but Lexa does care.

“How was hanging out with Anya?” Clarke asks. She’s clearly trying to sound upbeat, but falls short.

“It was fine,” Lexa says. She walks over to her bed and sits down on it. “We just watched movies and talked over beers.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it was.”

Lexa worries her bottom lip between her teeth. She wants to figure out what’s wrong, say something—anything—to lift Clarke’s mood just like Clarke had inadvertently done for her just a few days ago.

“How are Lincoln and Octavia? Are you seeing them soon?”

“They’re good. And yeah, I think they’re coming over tomorrow for dinner.”

Okay. So it’s not that.

“Was work busy?”

“Not really, just the usual. We had some school trips planned, but the kids did surprisingly well. I think they may have been the most well-behaved group of children we’ve ever seen.”

Not that either, then. But Lexa’s happy to hear Clarke’s at least beginning to open up a bit more.

“Either that or the day you planned was just awesome,” Lexa says and Clarke rewards her with an airy laugh. The mood seems to lighten up, but only for a few seconds. Lexa can feel it shift again, even through the phone.

She scrambles her brain for anything else that may have disrupted Clarke’s day. If everything is fine with her friends and with work, the only other thing she can think of is–

“Have you talked to your mom lately?”

A sigh.

 _Bingo_.

(This is a game of bingo she’d rather not win again.)

“Yeah. She called a couple of hours ago.” That same defeated tone from before is back, but this time tenfold.

“What did she say?” Lexa asks. She doesn’t mean for it to come across so defensive—she doesn’t even know the woman. But the little she’s heard from her has been enough to form not the greatest of images in her mind.

And when she makes Clarke sound like she does right now?

It doesn’t really help.

“Nothing new. You know, same old. Just talked about her life, how she’s busy at the hospital.” Lexa listens intently, filing away details she hadn’t heard before, like the fact that Clarke’s mom may be a doctor. “Asked me about mine, made sure to remind me I wasted four years of my life just to end up at a job that barely requires a high school diploma.” She sighs and Lexa pictures her pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not using those words, of course, but that was the gist of it.”

She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal to be belittled by your mom about what you do for a living and the choices you’ve made about your life.

It makes Lexa’s blood boil. She doesn’t even realize it, but she’s tightly gripping the comforter, her other hand squeezing her phone so hard it indents her skin.

“Fuck that,” she says. She’s not usually one to curse, but seriously. Fuck. That. “You’re awesome at your job. It doesn’t matter what you needed to get it, what matters is that you’re amazing at it. I can’t believe she’d—”

“Lexa.” She can’t see Clarke, obviously, but she swears she can picture the faintest of smiles. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t have to put up with that. You are an illustrator and you will end up making it your career, but until then don’t let anyone, _no one_ , make you feel bad for what you do for a living.”

She’s upset and she’s breathing heavy, but she doesn’t care. Clarke needs to know this and if her mom’s not willing to be the one to tell her, then Lexa gladly will.

The line goes quiet for a moment and Lexa worries she stepped over the line. She doesn’t mean to sound disrespectful toward Clarke’s mom, she just wants Clarke to know there’s nothing wrong with the way she’s living her life.

“Thanks, Lexa,” Clarke says quietly a few seconds later.

The heaviness in Clarke’s voice seems to fade and Lexa’s shoulders finally relax. She slowly lets her breath out through her nose.

“Now, tell me what your plans are for the rest of the week,” Lexa says.

She doesn’t care that it’s getting late, doesn’t care that she has to wake up early the next day. She’s just content to hear Clarke’s voice, her previously bad mood slowly dissipating.

::::

“Do you have time right now to go over what I have scheduled for the next couple of days?” Lexa asks Anya. It’s late in the afternoon and they’re close to finishing the day after a morning full of meetings.

Anya puts the pen she was writing with down and looks at Lexa. “Yeah, go for it.”

“Between Friday and Saturday I’m meeting a total of eight potential partners. I met seven of them last time I was there, and then one of them reached out after they heard about us.”

“That’s great,” Anya says. “Will you email me their contact information after so I can look them all up?”

“Of course.” Lexa nods. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I have a good feeling about at least a couple of these. And then on Sunday I’m going back to the farmer’s market, try to see if there’s anyone new and talk to some people who seemed interested enough, but didn’t pull the trigger the first time around.”

“Sounds good. On Friday I’m meeting with Gustus to discuss logistics once we start moving more products.” She turns to look at her computer and uses her mouse to scroll, then looks back at Lexa. “Also, our Monday meeting got pushed to Thursday, so you don’t have to worry about driving at the crack of dawn.”

“Oh, good. Last time was exhausting.” Lexa pulls up her calendar and moves her meeting to accurately reflect her new schedule. “Did they say why?”

Anya shakes her head. “Not really, but I don't think it’s a big deal. It still gives us enough time to prepare.”

“Cool.”

With that out of the way, Lexa is able to focus on the work she has pulled up on her computer. She has been working on proposals for each potential partner and needs to print them out at the office before leaving today.

She’s fighting with Word and its stupid image formatting options that are absolutely pointless when her phone buzzes. She glances at it and stops what she’s doing when she sees it’s a message from Clarke.

‘ _Hey_.’

It’s just one word. One simple word, but it makes Lexa’s face break into a wide smile.

‘ _Hey yourself._ ’

‘ _How’s your day going?_ ’

Is it possible for her smile to get even bigger? She just really enjoys it when Clarke reaches out and asks her something as trivial as how her day is. Sometimes it’s more than enough to make her day.

‘ _Not bad. Should be out of here soon. What about you?_ ’

Her reply comes in the form of a Garfield GIF with the words ‘I hate Mondays’ on it. Lexa’s pretty sure she knows what Clarke means, but it doesn’t stop her from teasing her.

(Little does these days.)

‘ _Clarke? Did you hit your head? It’s Wednesday_.’

‘ _If John had worked a non-traditional job like some of us, then Garfield would’ve said he hates Wednesdays. But since he didn’t, I’m stuck on Mondays. I stand by what I sent_.’

Lexa chuckles, eyes immediately darting up. Dammit. Anya definitely heard that and is now looking at her with an amused smile.

“Texting your _friend_ there, Lexa?”

The way she says the word ‘friend’ makes Lexa roll her eyes.

“Yes, Anya. I’m texting my friend.” It’s weird how saying the same word in two different ways completely changes its meaning. “Don’t get jealous of our friendship. I can text you, too.”

To prove her point she picks up her phone again and searches for Anya in her contacts. She types in a quick message with the words ‘hi, friend’ in it and hits send. Anya’s phone buzzes a second later.

“I’m not even going to look at that.”

“Aw. But your friend just texted you,” Lexa says with an innocent smile.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I no longer have friends.”

Lexa laughs, but gets distracted when her phone shakes in her hand, another text from Clarke coming in. She switches back to their conversation.

‘ _Anyway. Raven wanted to ask at what time you’re arriving tomorrow?_ ’

Lexa smirks. ‘ _Raven’s asking, huh?_ ’

‘ _Yeah. She’s the one in charge of dealing with guests. You know this. I especially defer the annoying ones to her._ ’

‘ _Really? If I’m so annoying, why don’t you just forward her my phone number, huh?_ ’

She waits for a reply for a minute, two, almost three, but nothing comes. She’s given up and has already placed her phone down when it buzzes again. Cocky smile on place, she brings her phone up to read Clarke’s message, but is surprised to see it’s from an unknown number instead.

‘ _I don’t know why, but Clarke told me you wanted me to ask you personally at what time you’ll be arriving tomorrow?_ ’

It’s followed by, ‘ _I don’t know how I got dragged into this._ ’

She really should know better than to challenge Clarke by now.

‘ _Don’t look at me. This is all on your friend,_ ’ Lexa replies.

 _‘Funny. She’s blaming it on you._ ’

Lexa rolls her eyes and chuckles, because of course she is. She chooses to just addresses the real reason for Raven’s text.

 _‘I’m going to try and leave after lunch so I can avoid rush hour. I should be there at around 4pm?_ ’

She sends another one before Raven can reply, ‘ _I can send a more accurate ETA once I’m on my way._ ’

‘ _No worries. Just wanted to make sure someone was here to let you in. I’ll see you tomorrow._ ’

Lexa adds Raven’s phone number to her contacts just in case she ever needs to message her directly and then returns to her messages with Clarke. There’s nothing there for her and Lexa has to commend Clarke’s determination to make her pay for her words.

It’s not hard to realize she gets too much enjoyment out of pushing Clarke’s buttons, and she loves the way she replies in kind. Just like before, Clarke not only had met her challenge, but she also rose to it.

There’s something to be said about that.

She doesn’t text Clarke again, doesn’t hear back from her that night either. Nothing until the next day, when she’s about to get on the road.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket just as she's closing the trunk and she pulls it out. The screen shows a preview of the message:

‘ _Drive safe_.’

It's two simple words, but the fact that Clarke couldn't help herself and ended up texting her anyway makes Lexa smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying a new formatting when it comes to representing text so it flows (what I'm hoping is) better and isn't so disruptive. If it's not working and it would be better/easier to follow if I go back to explicitly saying who's texting (Like so: **Lexa:** _this is a text message_ ) feel free to let me know. But I'm hoping this format works, I think it's less sore on the eyes.
> 
> Also, as I mentioned, I decided to split this chapter into two because I think maybe two parts are easier to digest than dumping a chapter that's ~20k words long all at once, but if anyone feels strongly one way or the other, feel free to let me know as well.
> 
> Anyway! I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading :D


	3. Contact Added (Part Two)

Lexa mentally pats herself on the back for choosing the right time to leave. It’s that sweet spot right after people have gone back to their office after lunch break, but right before they start going home.

The streets leaving the city were practically empty—still busy, because for some reason there’s always some amount of traffic no matter what time or day of the week it is, but it didn’t increase her travel time at all.

She’s expected to arrive at around 4:37pm according to her GPS, which means she has about an hour left on the road. She doesn’t mind the trip; has always enjoyed driving, blasting music through the speakers with all the time in the world to just think.

Normally her mind will wander to work, things to do, pending emails, but today… well, today all she’s been able to think about is a certain someone with bright blue eyes and a breathtaking smile.

She sighs.

She woke up with her stomach in knots, something she’s not really used to. Lexa isn’t the nervous type. Even before big, important meetings she has been known for having nerves of steel, confidence unwavering.

But apparently all it takes is one attractive woman and it all melts away.

She doesn’t even know why she’s nervous. If anything, she should be less nervous than the last time she drove this same freeway. She’s not going to a stranger’s house anymore, she kind of knows them now. Clarke more than Raven, but she spent enough time with both of them to feel comfortable.

So why is it that the closer she gets to her destination, the tighter the knot in her stomach gets?

It’s probably just Anya getting in her head. All that teasing about Clarke; admitting she was slightly, maybe just a little bit into her out loud—it messed with her head.

There’s nothing to be nervous about. She’s just going to a different town for work and spending a couple of days with a few people she’d like to call friends.

And that’s it.

She focuses her attention on the music playing for the rest of the ride and it helps to calm her down a little. Just enough that by the time she’s turning into the street she’s come to know as Clarke and Raven’s she feels as close to calm and collected as she thinks she possibly could.

Unsurprised, but still just a little bit disappointed, she pulls into the driveway next to Raven’s car, Clarke’s nowhere in sight. They didn’t really discuss Clarke’s schedule for the day and she knows if she’s working the later shift she doesn’t finish until five, but she’s now realizing part of her was unconsciously hoping Clarke would be there already by the time she arrived.

With her feelings at odds—partly disheartened because she won’t get to see Clarke right away and partly relieved because she doesn’t know how she’s going to react when she does see her—Lexa puts her car in park and steps out. She walks to the trunk and pulls out her suitcase and laptop bag, much like she had done last time.

She still remembers the way Clarke just stood there, seemingly stunned, when she opened the door. It puts a smile on her face to think of how flustered she had been after, trying to collect her bearings. It was endearing and Lexa thinks it’s part of what she’s chasing when she teases Clarke—that same feeling of leaving her speechless, something Lexa senses doesn’t happen very often.

This time when she knocks on the door it’s Raven who opens it and her greeting is way more gracious than Clarke’s was. Raven is welcoming and immediately invites her in, letting her know her bedroom is all ready for her.

“I’m making dinner again, but you’re welcome to go to sleep right away if that’s what you want,” Raven teases and Lexa laughs.

“I think this time around I’m a lot less tired. It’s at least four hours earlier, so there’s a chance I may make it all the way until dinner.”

“That’s great to hear. Tonight we‘re having tacos.”

She really should start staying here more often. The food alone is worth it.

“That sounds delicious.”

“Now that you’re here, I’m going to run to the store real quick to buy a couple of things that I’m missing. Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, thank you. I think I’m good for now.”

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Raven leaves her and Lexa takes her bags into the guest bedroom. She smiles when she sees the rules Raven had shown her last time framed and sitting on one of the nightstands. There’s also a few chocolates on the pillow, the kind that you find in hotel rooms, and it makes Lexa chuckle.

They’re really taking their Airbnb business to the next level. She will have to make sure to leave another review to congratulate them on the improvements.

She’s busy taking her clothes out of her suitcase and putting them in the dresser when she hears the front door open and close. Assuming it’s Raven coming back from the store, she resumes her unpacking, neatly placing her shirts and other tops in one drawer, her pants and underwear in the other.

“Already getting comfortable, I see?”

The words startle her, but not enough to make her jump. Not enough to stop the wide grin that spreads over her face at the sound of that familiar voice.

She almost feels the need to brace herself as she turns her head slowly, but she thinks nothing could ever prepare her for what seeing Clarke in person again, just a few feet away from her, does to her.

It knocks the wind out of her, her mouth goes dry and her heart beats wildly in her chest.

(She would react the same way if she saw Anya after not seeing her for four weeks, right?)

“Clarke,” Lexa finally breathes. It seems that’s as much as the air in her lungs will allow her to say.

“Hey,” Clarke says, matching her smile. “I’m glad you made it safely.”

Lexa nods. “It was a pretty easy drive, not a lot of traffic.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

Her body swings forward—almost like it has a mind and will of its own—but Lexa catches herself before she can do something stupid like shorten the distance and hug Clarke. She wants to, but that’s not a thing they do. And so she swings, but remains in the same spot.

They stand there for a moment in complete silence, like neither one is sure of what to say next. Lexa pushes thoughts of her body’s reaction aside and just talks like she does when they’re on the phone.

Like two old friends who are just catching up.

“How was work?” Lexa asks. She goes back to unpacking, only a few items of clothing remaining.

She catches Clarke’s one shoulder shrug out of the corner of her eye.

“Uneventful.” She steps into the room and walks over to the bed. She sits down on it, hair bouncing when she does. “Glad it’s over, though.”

The way she looks at Lexa when she says it makes her think she may have something to do with that.

“Yeah? Happy to be home?”

“You have no idea.”

The sincerity in her voice catches both of them by surprise, but while Clarke looks down to stare at her feet, Lexa can’t tear her eyes away from her.

After only a few moments of silence, Lexa clears her throat to dissipate her thoughts and bring the conversation back to comfortable territory.

“I’m glad you knew I was here,” Lexa says. She’s trying really hard to stop a smile from appearing on her face.

“Yeah, your car kinda gave it away.” Clarke chuckles like what Lexa just said was ridiculous and it only makes containing her smile even harder.

“Thank god for my car,” Lexa says and revels in the way Clarke looks at her, confused. Just a beat and then, “I wouldn’t want you to come at me with a remote control if you thought I was an intruder.”

  
She finally lets herself break into a lopsided grin, enjoying Clarke’s very exaggerated eye-roll.

“And to think I said no to going out with friends from work just so I could come home to hang out with you.”

Lexa’s right eyebrow rises at that. It seems Clarke wasn’t planning on revealing that little piece of information, because she gasps at her own words and then looks away, effectively ignoring Lexa’s inquisitive brow.

Her cheeks turn so red, Lexa thinks they could match the tomatoes Raven will probably add to her guacamole.

It’s absolutely adorable.

See? Flustered Clarke is the best.

“Anyway,” Clarke says. She clears her throat, cheeks still red. Lexa would even go as far as to say the color has reached the tip of her ears. “Should I leave you to it?” she asks. She stands up, hands pointing at Lexa’s suitcase.

Never mind that it’s practically empty, with nothing but a pair of shoes left in them.

Clarke notices this after the fact and Lexa snickers when her blush only deepens.

“You don’t deserve these,” Clarke determines, reaching over the bed to grab the chocolates currently laying on the pillow.

“Hey, those are mine.” Lexa forgets all about her suitcase, chooses to go after Clarke instead. Clarke who has dared grab her chocolate.

“Not anymore,” Clarke says, climbing onto the bed when Lexa nears her. She crawls all the way to the other side until she’s standing, the piece of furniture now between them.

“Clarke,” Lexa says in a threatening tone, but her eyes are dancing and so are Clarke’s. “Return my chocolate. If you leave them on the pillow, I’ll let you walk out of here unscathed. No one has to get hurt.” She places both hands on the mattress, lifting her right knee to rest on it.

Lexa wonders if she could climb up and over quick enough to catch her.

Clarke takes a step back, her back hitting the wall. Her eyes dart to the door, which is on the opposite side. She has to get through Lexa if she wants to go anywhere.

“These are not your chocolate,” Clarke says. “You lost your right to them.”

Mischievous eyes twinkle and Lexa doesn’t have enough time to try and figure out why until it’s too late and Clarke has unwrapped one of them, quickly popping it in her mouth.

“Mmm,” she says. Moans almost. And it sends a shiver straight down to Lexa’s core. “It’s delicious.” She’s sucking on it, eyes closed, her tongue occasionally darting to lick her lips and Lexa’s transfixed, much like she had been weeks ago when Clarke had been eating her ice cream, licking every last bit of it off her spoon.

She swallows thickly.

Clarke is smiling, and then laughing, but by the time she opens her eyes all sound stops. She stares at Lexa and Lexa can’t help but notice the way her breathing shortens, her eyes turning a darker shade of blue.

She’s never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in her entire life.

She thinks about it—what it would take to shorten their distance. Just climb over the bed and she could be on the other side, standing in front of Clarke. Maybe she would get to taste some of that chocolate, too.

Lexa bites her lip. Thinks about it for just a second and is about to push herself forward when the sound of the front door closing behind her surprises them both.

“Clarke?” Raven calls out and that’s all it takes to pull them out of the daze they are in.

“I have to–” Clarke says, pointing at the door. Lexa takes a step back from the bed and nods, placing her hands behind her back.

“Yeah.”

“I’m keeping these,” Clarke says with a smile, shaking the chocolate she’s still holding onto in front of Lexa’s face as she walks by.

_ Fine. No new review for you, then _ .

::::

Three of Lexa’s eight meetings are scheduled for Friday. They are supposed to be casual enough that she can host them downtown, at that bagel place Clarke had recommended. She’s happy with her choice as soon as she walks in. The laid-back atmosphere and being surrounded by locals is exactly what she needs.

It helps that the food is actually good, too, just like Clarke had promised.

The first two meetings go really well, the third one not so much. There’s always people who like the idea of selling their products elsewhere, but get nervous when the conversation turns serious. It’s reasonable.

Lexa understands some people go into this business trying to make a living for themselves and it’s not for everyone to share that, even if it means expanding their market. Increase in demand can be scary all on its own, too, if it means you won’t have the resources to keep up with it.

No matter what, Lexa feels confident enough to say today was a success.

She shares her updates with Anya through a brief phone call on her way back to Clarke and Raven’s place. Anya on her part tells her how things went with her own meeting, Lexa glad to hear they should be able to sustain at least a slight increase in products handled without a hitch.

Both Raven and Clarke’s cars are parked in the driveway when she returns, and both of them are sitting in the living room when she opens the door using the spare key they had left on the nightstand.

Two pairs of eyes look in her direction, and then she’s greeted with two sets of smiles.

“Hey, Lexa,” Raven greets from her spot on the couch. Her feet are propped on the coffee table, a bottle of beer between her hands. Clarke is sitting next to her with what Lexa assumes is her own beer on top of a coaster on the table. “How was your day?”

“It was good, actually,” she says with a smile. She’s feeling optimistic about this trip so far. “How about yours?”

“Nothing spectacular, but it’s Friday,” Raven replies, lifting her beer bottle.

Clarke huffs. “Some of us still have to work tomorrow, Raven.”

“Relax, princess. You’ll get your weekend soon.”

Lexa catches the nickname and looks at Clarke with a raised eyebrow. “Princess, huh?” she asks with a bemused smile, arms crossed over her chest. Clarke elbows Raven on the side, but looks at Lexa and shakes her head, like there’s nothing else to say. She drops it for now. “Are you working all day tomorrow?”

“All. Day,” Clarke says, running a hand over her whole face.

“Did you tell her already?” Raven asks Clarke.

“Tell me what?” Lexa walks over to sit down on the one-seater sofa that’s closest to Clarke.

“O’s coming over tomorrow,” Clarke says. “Just her. Lincoln’s going out with his friends.”

“Yeah, so we’re having a girl’s night.”

Lexa nods. She doesn’t know where she can go spend some time while they’re all hanging out, but she’s sure she can figure it out.

“Okay,” she says.

“We didn’t know at what time you’re going to be done,” Raven says. “But we told O to be here at six. We figured you’d be back by then?”

Her first assumption was incorrect. They weren’t telling her so she wouldn’t be around, but the opposite. Lexa smiles.

“Six’s perfect.”

She has the bulk of her meetings tomorrow, but she doesn’t think they’ll run that late.

Clarke smiles at her and Lexa’s stuck staring back. She hasn’t had much time to be alone with her and she kind of wishes she had an excuse to do so right now.

Don’t get her wrong—she likes Raven and enjoys spending time with her, too. Dinner last night was fun; they all talked and shared stories at the dinner table, even after all the food was gone. It was great.

But Lexa has had the privilege of having these little pockets of alone time with Clarke whenever they would call or text and she’s starting to miss it. Maybe Clarke is, too, if the way she keeps looking at her when she thinks Lexa isn’t paying attention is anything to go by.

Raven is sharing a story about something that happened at work and Lexa is paying attention, she really is, but her hands are itching to reach over to touch Clarke’s knee, even if for a brief moment.

Anything to feel some sort of connection to the woman sitting right next to her.

It’s crazy how she can be so close, yet feel so, so far away.

Raven takes another swig of her beer at the end of her story. She looks at the bottle, tilts it in her hand and then looks at Lexa.

“Do you want a beer?” she offers. Lexa shakes her head.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Clarke?”

“I’m okay, too. Thanks, Rae,” she says. Raven nods and goes to the kitchen, leaving Clarke and Lexa behind.

“What was that?” Clarke calls out. Lexa’s brow furrows. She didn’t say anything. “I think Raven’s calling me,” she says. She stands up and smiles at her. “I’ll be right back.”

Still confused, Lexa sits there and waits. She’s pretty sure Raven didn’t say anything, either.

A couple of minutes later Clarke comes back into the living room, Raven still in the kitchen. “Did you bring a jacket?” she asks.

Lexa tilts her head. “A jacket? Of course. It’s winter, Clarke.”

“Well, I don’t know. We talked a couple of weeks ago and you said it was cold, but you were wearing the flimsiest sweater.” Lexa can’t believe Clarke noticed. “Your cheeks and nose were all red. It was cute,” she says with a smile. “Yeah.” A chuckle. “Just like that.”

This must be the universe’s way of getting back at her for enjoying Clarke’s embarrassment the night before. Now it’s her turn to have her entire face burning up.

Wonderful.

“Anyway,” Lexa says, clearing her throat. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she’s practically saying and doing exactly what Clarke did last night.

  
Stupid karma.

“I do have a jacket, why?”

“I want you to go on a walk with me,” Clarke says.

Lexa can’t understand how Clarke can blush and get flustered over something as simple as not realizing Lexa was done unpacking, but then ask her to go on a walk with her like it’s nothing.

Maybe it is nothing. Maybe that’s why–

“You gonna get it?” Clarke interrupts her thoughts.

“Right, yeah. I’ll be right back.”

::::

“Is Raven joining us?” Lexa asks Clarke as soon as they step outside the house.

“Raven? Oh, um. No. She had—she’s tired.”

“It’s barely past seven,” Lexa points out, amused.

They begin walking down the street, Lexa curious to see where they are going. So far the few times she’s driven through the neighborhood she hasn’t seen anything out of the ordinary, so maybe this is just a nighttime stroll.

Not that she minds either way. She’s just content to be walking with Clarke. Alone. Even if she decides to tease her about Raven not joining them.

“Don’t ask me. I don’t know why she needs to rest so much.” She’s avoiding Lexa’s curious look and it makes her laugh.

“Hm.”

“Don’t ‘hm’ at me.”

“Hm,” she repeats, laughing louder when Clarke bumps Lexa’s shoulder with her own.

The wind picks up and Lexa has to zip up her jacket. When they had first stepped out of the house the difference in temperature hadn’t been so drastic, but now that they’re out in the open it’s definitely feeling colder.

She’s glad to be able to hide part of her face behind her coat.

“Look at you, all bundled up. I didn’t know you knew how to prepare for this coastal weather, urbanite.”

“Look who’s talking,  _ princess _ .” Clarke rolls her eyes at that. “What’s with that, anyway?”

Clarke looks to the side, away from Lexa. She takes a deep breath and for a moment Lexa regrets asking, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable or like she has to talk about something she doesn’t want to.

“It’s a nickname this guy I knew would call me. It caught on, so it stuck around.” She pauses. “He didn’t.”

She doesn’t sound sad about it necessarily, but there’s something there Lexa can’t place.

“A guy as in…” She stops. Wonders if maybe she should just drop it, but it’s a question that’s been hanging at the back of her head and this seems like the perfect opportunity to find the answer. “An ex-boyfriend?”

Lexa doesn’t mean to hold her breath. She really doesn’t. The rational side of her thinks she knows that no matter the answer, she hasn’t been reading Clarke wrong. At least not  _ that _ wrong.

But still. She holds her breath anyway, awaiting Clarke’s reply.

It comes with a shake of her head. “No. Just a guy. I don’t do boyfriends.”

There’s a pause, long enough for Lexa to start wondering what that means. It’s not clear enough, it could either be—

“Or girlfriends. Serious relationships in general,” Clarke explains.

Now it’s crystal clear.

Relief washes over Lexa at the confirmation that it’s both men  _ and  _ women that she’s into.

She’s glad her gaydar didn’t fail her this time.

“I get that. They’re too much work,” Lexa says. She doesn’t say it just for the sake of it. She truly believes it. “That’s why I don’t do relationships, either.”

Hasn’t for a long while, anyway. She’s never actually done casual, per se. The only women she’s ever dated have become her girlfriends at some point, but that was before she realized she needed to stop putting her energy into relationships that won’t work and put it into her company instead.

That was almost a year and a half ago.

Since then, Lexa has had a handful of one-night stands, none of them ever turning into anything else. She hasn’t met anyone she would like to casually see again, but she can’t imagine it being any different than what she’s used to right now.

“But wait,” Lexa says, focusing on something Clarke had said that doesn’t entirely make sense yet. “He was just a guy, but the nickname he gave you stuck around long enough for your friends to start using it?”

Clarke wraps her arms around herself. It could be because it’s cold, but there’s been no gust of wind, so it isn’t any colder than it was just a few seconds ago.

“He was Raven’s boyfriend.” She says it quietly, no sense of pride in her words. If anything, she just sounds ashamed. “I didn’t know, though,” she proceeds to explain. 

She’s rubbing her own arms up and down and Lexa now understands why she had wrapped them around herself.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lexa says. She doesn’t want to make Clarke more uncomfortable than she already is.

They’re still walking side by side, but they’ve reached a street Lexa doesn’t remember seeing. Maybe it’s because it’s nighttime and everything looks unfamiliar in the dark, but based on the direction they’ve been walking she’s almost certain she hasn’t been here before.

“They had only been dating for a few months. Enough for Raven to fall head over heels in love with him, but not long enough for us to have met him. He never said anything. It wasn’t until he showed up to one of our parties that I realized.” She finally dares to look at Lexa and her chest tightens.

Clarke looks at her like she’s ready to be judged, accept whatever Lexa has to say about it. But Lexa’s in no position to judge. She doesn’t think there’s anything  _ to _ judge, really; Clarke didn’t even know.

“He sounds like a dick,” Lexa quips. She’s satisfied when it draws a soft chuckle out of Clarke. “Why keep the nickname, then?”

Clarke takes a deep breath. “When I figured out what was happening I told Raven, but she didn’t exactly believe me. Well, she did, but she thought it was a misunderstanding and not out of malice.” She rolls her eyes. “Thankfully now we can both laugh at how stupid that was.

“But she was so in love with him, none of it mattered. They stayed together for a while before she finally realized she was better off without him. But by then we had been hanging out long enough that the nickname stuck around.”

There’s a pedestrian path in front of them. Lexa can tell based on the wooden poles that are blocking the entrance. Clarke guides them through them and they start walking between trees, everything around them getting darker.

If she didn’t know better, Lexa would think Clarke brought her here to kill her.

Maybe she did take her teasing too far.

“I don’t really like it,” Clarke admits. Lexa makes sure to keep that in mind. “But Raven was all about taking her power back or whatever. I think she just got used to it and now it’s been so long it’s just not a reminder anymore.”

“Is that why you don’t do relationships?” Lexa asks. It seems to her that’s a pretty good reason.

“Oh no, that’s a whole other can of worms.” Clarke laughs. “But I guess it did add to the pile of reasons,” she says with a chuckle.

Despite the topic in question, the mood seems to have lightened up again.

“What about you?” Clarke asks.

“Hm? What about me?”

The path they are on has narrowed, the vegetation around them having grown wilder during the previous months, and they’re forced to walk just that much closer to each other, shoulders and arms almost touching.

“Any horrible stories involving ‘just a guy’ or boyfriends?”

Lexa balks at that. “Clarke.” She stops walking and it takes Clarke a second to realize it. She turns around to face her when she does.

“Yeah?”

Lexa’s eyes have adjusted to the lack of light enough to make out Clarke’s form standing just a foot or so away from her. 

“Please,” she urges. “Please, don’t tell me  _ anything _ about me has made you think there’s  _ any _ chance my answer to that question would be yes.”

She follows her words with the movement of her eyes, slowly tracing Clarke’s body from top to bottom and then back up until they land on her face. Then, just for good measure, she moves them to openly stare at Clarke’s lips, licking her own.

Clarke looks at her, completely still. She takes in a shaky breath, and then says, “No. I just needed to make sure.” 

Clarke’s about to take a step forward, Lexa’s sure of it, can almost feel it. But at the last second she sends her an impish smile and then turns around on her heels.

“Come on. We’re almost there.”

Heart racing, Lexa can’t do much but follow.

::::

“Did you bring me out here to murder me?” Lexa asks.

She  _ has _ to ask, because Clarke said they were ‘almost there’ over five minutes ago and Lexa still can’t see anything but bushes and trees around them.

When Clarke’s only response is to laugh, Lexa feels the need to add, “I’ll have you know, Anya knows I’m here. And she knows I’m staying with you guys. If I don’t come back, she’ll know it was you. You won’t get away with this.”

This time Clarke laughs louder, head thrown back and Lexa’s heart threatens to jump out of her chest.

Maybe she will die at Clarke’s hands, just in a different way.

“I swear, it’s just around here,” Clarke says. She looks over her shoulder at Lexa. She’s only a couple of steps behind Clarke, but is looking at her skeptically. “Fine,” Clarke says with an eye roll. “I didn’t bring you here to murder you, okay?” When Lexa doesn’t say anything but starts to slow down, Clarke reaches for her arm, pulling her.

“If I did, it would be too late for you, anyway.”

Clarke laughs again when Lexa tenses, but she’s too busy focusing on the hand gripping her arm to even care.

This time it’s true, it was just around the corner, and when they finally reach the clearing Lexa is glad they went through all of that—fear for her life included.

Clarke lets go of her arm and Lexa misses the contact right away, wishes she could reach out for her hand instead. But she doesn’t. She just walks the couple of feet remaining until she’s standing at the top of the hill that overlooks the entire town.

“Wow,” Lexa says.

There’s a bench conveniently placed right there. Lexa can’t imagine how crowded this place must get during the summer, probably to the point where some don’t even get the chance to sit down and enjoy it. But she has the chance, so she does sit down.

Clarke joins her a second later. She sits to her right, not much distance left between them.

“What do you think?”

“It’s–wow. So pretty.”

Clarke smiles. “Yeah, right?” She leans back against the bench, her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. “I bet you don’t get this in the city, huh?”

Lexa’s eyes take everything in front of her—the vast darkness of the ocean, the building lights reflecting on the water. It’s pretty, but the best part is when she focuses on the horizon, a thousand stars spread across the sky, the lack of light pollution enough that she can see every single one of them.

“Not like this, no,” Lexa breathes out.

She scoots backwards on the bench until she can rest her back on it and they just sit there in silence, watching the barely perceptible sway of the waves down below, stars reflecting on the ocean. The bench is so close to the edge of the cliff that if Lexa looks straight ahead it almost seems like she’s surrounded by them.

“I didn’t know this was here,” Lexa says after a stretch of quietude.

“Not a lot of people do. It’s tucked away in this neighborhood, so unless you know to look for it, not a lot of people find it. Although I would say the last couple of years it’s become more crowded during the summer. It must have made a hidden-gems article or something.”

“Do you like living here?” Lexa asks her. She doesn’t know if she would ever be able to permanently live in a town like this. It’s nice and she enjoys visiting, but she thinks she would go crazy after a little bit.

“It’s fine for what it is,” Clarke says. “My friends are here, so it’s good enough.”

Lexa turns her head to look at Clarke. She’s still staring straight ahead, hands tucked in her jacket. Lexa ends up doing the same, if only to stop her hands from reaching out.

A half smirk appears on Clarke’s face.

“What?” she asks. Lexa’s head quickly turns to look in front of her again, even though Clarke doesn’t turn to look at her.

“What, what?” Lexa replies, feigning ignorance. She’s glad it’s dark enough Clarke wouldn’t be able to see the color of her cheeks turning even if she did look at her.

“You were looking at me.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Really, Lexa?” Clarke challenges.

She does turn her head this time. Lexa does the same, takes Clarke in and her throat tightens at the sight of Clarke with a self-assured smile, eyebrow raised, radiant blue eyes dancing across Lexa’s face.

“Well, now I am,” she croaks and Clarke laughs. God, she loves making her laugh.

Why can’t she just fucking kiss her?

She wants to,  _ really _ wants to. The thing is, she’s wanted to kiss Clarke ever since her first visit. She thought Clarke did, too. Would’ve sworn by the time they were sharing stories over ice cream she had been obvious enough about how receptive she was to the idea.

But Clarke hadn’t done anything and it makes Lexa wonder if part of her wants to, while another part doesn’t.

That’s something Lexa has to respect. If Clarke’s unsure about it, Lexa isn’t about to push it on her. Maybe she’s uncomfortable because Lexa is their guest. Maybe this is nothing more than just friendly banter and flirting.

“What are you thinking about?” Clarke asks quietly.

“Nothing,” Lexa lies, but her eyes betray her when they move down to look at Clarke’s mouth.

If Lexa thought there was any chance Clarke didn’t notice, it disappears when Clarke brings her bottom lip between her teeth.

_ Fuck _ .

Maybe Clarke does want to kiss her just as much.

Blue eyes search green. There’s something in the way Clarke’s looking at her that Lexa can’t quite place; a mix of two contradicting emotions Lexa isn’t sure how to define. Clarke’s eyes dart to the side, frown lines on her forehead. Lexa thinks she may be struggling with something, and whatever it is, it pushes her to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Lexa asks softly, reaches out with her right hand to catch Clarke’s left. The contact sends a shiver through her entire body.

She has used pockets and furniture and willpower to stop herself from touching Clarke ever since she arrived the day before, but she can’t stop herself anymore.

Clarke looks down at their joined hands and Lexa hopes she’s not holding it against her, but her worries are appeased when a soft smile tugs at Clarke’s lips.

Lexa still sits on the bench, Clarke at arm’s length. A gentle tug and Lexa is on her feet, being pulled toward the railing that separates them and the precipice below. Clarke lets go of her hand only long enough to switch her hold from her left to her right.

Lexa expects Clarke to guide her to her side, but instead she pulls in a way that makes Lexa stand behind her. The proximity makes Lexa’s heart start beating erratically.

At first there’s a small space between them, but then Clarke lifts her right arm, hand still holding on to Lexa’s, and points out at the town below them. That little tug ends up closing the gap between them, Lexa’s front now flush against Clarke’s back.

A sound forms deep in her throat. Lexa has to bite her lip to stop it from coming out.

She suddenly wishes she was wearing that thin sweater she wore a few weeks ago instead of the thicker jacket she’s sporting right now. She doesn’t care if it would have made her colder if only it meant she could feel Clarke even more now.

“That’s the museum I work at.” Clarke uses their joined hands to point, her voice soft.

Lexa is only an inch or so taller, which isn’t much, but enough for her to be able to peer over Clarke’s shoulder to see what she’s pointing at. 

Being this close to her, Lexa’s engulfed by the smell of vanilla and coconut and it makes her legs go weak. 

“That’s the park we stopped at to eat ice cream,” Clarke continues her narration. Lexa isn’t even sure she’s looking in the right direction, but she nods anyway, humming in acknowledgement.

Never letting go, Clarke moves her hand to rest it over her stomach, catching Lexa’s between her own palm and jacket.

Lexa’s breath hitches. They’re out in the open, yet Lexa’s struggling to breathe. It almost feels like time has stopped around them; all she can see and hear and feel is Clarke.

She wants to say something. So many things. Like,

_ You’re killing me _ .

Or,

_ I’m dying to kiss you _ .

But she’s too overwhelmed, all of her senses attuned to nothing but Clarke—the way she smells, the way her back feels against her front, the way their fingers are gently intertwined, Clarke’s thumb brushing against her skin.

She tries to swallow past the lump in her throat to no avail. Being this close to Clarke, feeling her, smelling her, it’s all too much and she buries her face in Clarke’s hair to try and get a grip, but it does nothing to help. Not when she can hear Clarke’s sharp intake of breath.

She moves her free hand to grip Clarke’s left hip, hoping it helps steady her—her legs, her breathing, her rapidly beating heart.

Clarke’s whole body tenses when Lexa inhales deeper. She shivers and Lexa can both hear and feel the shaky breath coming out of her. Clarke abandons Lexa’s hand on her stomach and moves it to hold onto the railing, like she also needs the additional support.

Lexa smiles into her neck, her right hand now free to move over Clarke’s stomach. She wishes she could slide it under her jacket, wonders if she would be able to feel muscles tense under her fingertips.

Clarke hums, reaches behind her with her right hand, fingers tangling in Lexa’s hair, pulling her head closer. A soft moan builds in Lexa’s throat and she can’t stop it from coming out, burying her face further into Clarke’s nape.

Her eyes are closed until she feels Clarke move her head a little. She opens them then to find Clarke’s head turned slightly, enough to be looking at her, merely an inch away. Her eyes are dark, lips parted.

Lexa’s breath leaves her and so does everything else.

She leans forward, her nose brushing against Clarke’s before she closes the small gap separating them, encouraged by the hand still resting on the back of her head pulling her down.

Their lips touch and Lexa feels like the ground disappears from right underneath her. She sighs into the kiss; Clarke’s lips are so soft.

The kiss is slow, tentative, the angle not allowing for much, but it still sends a jolt through Lexa’s body straight to her center.

Pulling away, eyes slowly opening up, Lexa stares into impossibly darker blue eyes and she knows she wants more.  _ Needs _ more.

Using the hand that’s been resting on Clarke’s stomach, she grips the lapel of her jacket and tugs, forceful enough to turn Clarke around until she’s facing her.

A soft gasp escapes Clarke’s lips at the unexpected movement, eyes wide when Lexa pushes her just enough that Clarke’s backside hits the railing before Lexa steps into her space and captures soft lips with her own again.

This time the kiss isn’t timid. It’s rough and hungry and full of want. Hours, days,  _ weeks _ of wanting to feel and taste Clarke are poured into the kiss. Clarke’s arms come up to rest on Lexa’s shoulders, hands behind her head, crossing at her neck and pulling her impossibly closer.

Bodies flushed together, Lexa grips Clarke’s hips. Clarke opens her mouth, allowing Lexa to come in and explore, both of them moaning into the kiss the moment their tongues touch. It’s a desperate battle of wills, both fighting for dominance, neither one prepared to give in.

It’s absolutely delicious.

No one has ever kissed Lexa the way Clarke is kissing her right now. No one has felt as good pressed up against her, has let out the noises Clarke does when Lexa angles her head to deepen the kiss. It’s exhilarating and it makes her head dizzy.

They eventually pull away, both short of breath. Lexa leans in, resting her forehead against Clarke’s, eyes closing when fingers start playing with the small hairs on the back of her neck.

She needs a moment to collect herself, the throbbing between her legs too much to handle.

Green eyes open a few seconds later and Lexa can’t stop looking at the woman in front of her. She catches a small smile from the corner of her eye and she returns it, unable to focus on anything else.

“It’s late,” Clarke whispers.

“I know.” Lexa swallows.

It is late, they both have to work tomorrow, they should go, but Lexa doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is to keep kissing Clarke. Now that she knows what she feels like, tastes like, she can’t stop.

She’s not prepared for Clarke to pull her back in, but doesn’t even think about complaining when she does. She gets lost in the kiss again, moaning louder than the last time when Clarke deepens it, this time clearly taking charge. And Lexa lets her.

She lets her push her tongue in her mouth, lets her grip and tug her hair with her left hand. Lets the other one slide down to take purchase of her hip. Lets her kiss her senseless until she can’t even think straight anymore.

Next time they pull away it’s to Clarke’s breathy laugh and hands pushing at her shoulders, forcing Lexa to take a step back.

“You need to stop,” Clarke says around a playful smile

“That was all on you.” She smirks at the raised eyebrow she gets in return.

“Are you complaining?”

Lexa bites her lip. “Not at all.” She takes a step forward, tries to close the gap between them, but a hand lands on her chest this time.

“It really is late. And I know you have important meetings to go to tomorrow.” Clarke’s hand slides down her sternum to rest just above her waistline and even though she’s so padded with all the clothes she’s wearing, it still makes her knees go weak.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to survive Clarke’s actual touch.

Lexa worries her cheek between her teeth. Clarke’s right. As much as she would like to stay here and kiss her all night, she does have to get up early tomorrow. She needs to be well-rested and sharp if she wants a chance at securing any contracts.

Reluctantly, she nods. She made a promise to Anya over a year ago to never let anyone get between her and the business’ needs again. She’s not going to let her down.

“Let’s go,” Lexa says. She takes a few more steps back, needs the distance if she’s going to follow through. It takes all the willpower in the world, but it’s what she has to do.

She takes one last look at the view in front of them, still mesmerized by the amount of stars she can see in the sky, and they begin the walk back to the house.

::::

Traveling through unfamiliar roads always seems to take longer, like not knowing exactly where your destination is in relation to your surroundings stretches time.

Now that they are walking in the opposite direction, back to Clarke’s house, Lexa feels like time is going by faster. She thinks it’s only been minutes since they left the lookout and they are already past the narrowest stretch of the path.

Silence surrounds them as they walk side by side, but it’s not awkward. It’s actually the opposite, comfortable and maybe just a little bit tense. All the air in the world couldn’t fill Lexa’s lungs enough to feel like she has a fully functioning brain now that she knows what kissing Clarke feels like.

Her lips still swollen, she licks them, trying to trace the same path Clarke’s tongue had earlier. Her hands back in her pockets, itching to reach out and hold Clarke’s hand so she can intertwine their fingers, run the pad of her thumb over smooth skin.

A noise that sounds like someone has stepped on a fallen tree branch comes from somewhere between the trees to Lexa’s left. She stops, stretching her arm out to block Clarke from walking any further.

“Shh,” she whispers, single finger over her lips. She uses the arm that’s across Clarke’s midriff to nudge her behind her, tries to look in between the tree trunks to make out what caused the noise.

Clarke chuckles. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t shush, didn’t even match Lexa’s whisper.

“Clarke,” Lexa hushes. “I think there’s someone in there.”

Her hand and arm shake along with Clarke’s stomach. She’s laughing again, not taking this seriously.

“You know–”

“Clarke!”

“Fine,” she says, finally lowering her voice. “You know the chances of someone actually being there are like, zero to none, right? It’s likely a deer or a possum or something. We’re out in nature, Lexa.” She playfully pushes Lexa’s arm away, steps around her to walk closer to where Lexa’s eyes have been fixed since she heard the noise.

Clarke peers through the trees and Lexa holds her breath, ready for someone to jump at them.

“See?” Clarke says, smug smile in place. “There’s nothing there.” Lexa walks closer to the trees, still unsure. “I know you live in the city, but animals are a thing, I promise.”

Lexa turns her head to pointedly roll her eyes at Clarke. “Fine,” she says, resigned and ready to resume their walk. “But just so you— _ shit _ !”

She jumps, unable to stop the sound that escapes through her lips. She really, really wishes she would have, though, as soon as her brain registers the movement that made her jump and clutch her heart.

A bunny hops around in front of them, crossing the path and disappearing behind the bushes growing on the other side.

Clarke’s laughter breaks into the night, echoing all around them.

She’s never going to live this down, is she?

“Oh my God, Lexa,” Clarke says between giggles. “You should’ve–Your face–”

Yup. Never.

It’s making Clarke laugh so hard she’s bent over, arms hugging her stomach.

“Whatever,” Lexa says, refusing to pout. She starts walking again. “Stay behind, get kidnapped for all I care.”

“No! Lexa!” Clarke calls out. She runs the short distance it takes to catch up to her. “Please. Don’t leave me out here, all alone with these  _ bunnies _ .” She starts cracking up, goes as far as wiping tears off her eyes.

She must think she’s so funny.

Lexa huffs. “I’m done with you,” she says, fighting the smile that’s threatening to appear at the sound of Clarke’s laughter.

“I think you mean to say you’re stuck with me,” Clarke says. She reaches over, hooks her arm around Lexa’s, holds it firmly in place when Lexa tries to get away from her grasp. “I’m afraid you can’t escape me until Monday, at least.”

No longer trying to break out from Clarke’s hold, Lexa shakes her head. “I could cut my stay short.”

“You can’t. Non-refundable, remember?”

“It may just be worth it.”

“Hm. I don’t think you’ll find anywhere else that offers the type of services we do.” Clarke wiggles her eyebrows. Lexa’s eyes involuntarily move down to look at Clarke’s lips and yeah, okay—she may have a point there.

By the time they reach the house, Clarke’s laughter has subdued but she’s still chuckling. She opens the door, closes it quietly behind them once they’ve stepped in. All lights are off except for the standing lamp next to the living room couch.

“Raven must be in her room,” Clarke whispers.

They quietly take off their shoes by the door. Clarke walks over to the standing lamp, turns it off. The house goes completely dark and Lexa has to blink a few times for her eyes to adjust. She doesn’t move, afraid if she does she’s going to bump into something that will make noise and disturb Raven.

“This way,” Clarke says, voice still low. Lexa’s grateful when warm fingers wrap around her wrist, guiding her. The doorway to the guest room isn’t that far away, but better to be safe than sorry.

They get to the room, each one of them standing on either side of the doorway. Clarke reaches in with her arm, tapping around the wall until she finds the light switch. Lexa needs to blink a few times once more for her eyes to adjust to the light, but after a few seconds she can see again.

“What time do you have to be up tomorrow?” Clarke asks. She’s still speaking quietly, probably trying not to alert Raven of their presence.

She leans her shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair is a bit messy from the walk—and probably the kissing—and Lexa has to fight the urge to reach over to push a strand behind her ear.

“My first meeting is at nine, so I’ll probably get up sometime before eight.”

Clarke nods. “I probably won’t catch you before you leave, but good luck tomorrow.” She uncrosses her arms, places a hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’re going to kill it.” She says it so confidently, it makes Lexa’s heart soar.

Would it be too bad if she leaned in to kiss her good night?

“Goodnight, Lexa,” Clarke says.

Lexa thinks that will be the end of it, but Clarke surprises her when she moves the hand that’s on her shoulder up until it’s pressed against her neck. Clarke’s thumb lightly brushes the contour of her jaw, stops Lexa’s breath when she moves it over her bottom lip.

Lexa swallows.

“Sleep well,” Clarke says. Her eyes are shining and Lexa knows she’s purposefully teasing her. That’s why when she attempts to remove her hand, Lexa’s comes up to grip her wrist, keeping it in place. She places a soft kiss on the pad of her thumb, tongue darting out, a smirk pulling at her lips at Clarke’s sharp intake of breath.

“You too, Clarke,” Lexa says. She doesn’t let go of Clarke’s wrist, but loosens her grip enough that Clarke could move her arm if she wanted to. She does, but towards the back of Lexa’s neck, pulling her in for another bruising kiss.

No more than an hour or so has passed since they last kissed, but now that their lips are moving against each other again, Lexa realizes it had been too long. Both her hands move to find purchase on Clarke’s hips, roughly pulling her into her. The force of her own tug makes them both stumble backwards a few steps until Lexa can steady them.

While the previous two kisses had been all lips and tongue, this one is also all hands and touch. Clarke grabs the zipper of Lexa’s jacket, slides it down, spreads her jacket open until she can get her hands under Lexa’s shirt, sending a shiver down her spine.

In the meantime, Lexa’s hands are exploring Clarke’s back, moving down to cup her butt. They both moan way too loud for how quiet it is when Clarke’s fingers rake up over Lexa’s ribs and Lexa squeezes Clarke’s ass, pulling her closer.

The sound of a door opening down the hall makes them both jump. They look at each other, stifling giggles, but by the time Raven pokes her head into Lexa’s room they both look like two people who are just exchanging pleasantries before going to bed.

“You guys are back already?” Raven asks.

“It would seem that way, Rae,” Clarke teases.

“Smartass,” Raven says with an eye roll. “You see what I have to deal with, Lexa?” Raven asks her and Lexa laughs. “I’m going to the kitchen, anyone need anything?” They both shake their hand.

“I think we’re good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

They both let out a relieved sigh when Raven disappears into the hallway.

“That was close,” Clarke whispers.

“I know. You need to learn to control yourself.”

An eyebrow raises above blue eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

Lexa laughs, shrugs. She can’t really deny it.

Raven walks back with a glass of water, waving at them when she’s in front of the guest room, quickly disappearing back into the hallway again.

“Hey, before I go,” Clarke says after they hear the door to Raven’s room shut. Lexa smirks and Clarke shakes her head. “No, not  _ that _ —see? Control yourself.” Lexa laughs, lifting her arms up in surrender.

“Could we not—I don’t want Raven to know about,” she motions between them. “Not yet, anyway. She’s great, but she and O can be a bit overbearing about stuff like this and I just–” A shrug. “I don’t want to deal with that right now.”

Lexa understands that. She’s relieved she brought it up, actually. What they’re doing isn’t anything more than two people who are attracted to each other acting on it and while there’s nothing wrong with it, she wouldn’t even want to deal with Anya’s questions right away.

Even with Anya’s assumption that they were already sexting, she doesn’t want to know what her finding out about this will bring on Lexa, no matter how supportive she is or how much she has encouraged her to have fun.

She realizes she has been silent for a little too long when Clarke is watching her with a worried look on her face. Lexa quickly nods.

“No, of course. I think we should keep it between us for now, too.” Lexa adds a smile for good measure. She needs Clarke to know she means it.

Clarke lets out what Lexa is pretty sure can only be described as a sigh of relief.

“Good.” A smile. “Anyway,” Clarke says, taking a step back into the hallway. “I’ll let you go to sleep.”

Her eyes flicker to Lexa’s lips for a split second before she catches herself.

“Control yourself, Clarke,” Lexa teases, laughing when Clarke just rolls her eyes at her and leaves the room.

::::

Two pieces of paper are laid out on the table between the two women, graphs with Lexa’s projections and tables with her estimates of cost, commission and earnings explained in detail.

Her last meeting of the day is with Indra, and Lexa thinks it’s going well. Indra has been paying attention to everything she has explained so far and has asked smart questions that show real interest.

If she’s able to secure this deal, it’ll be a huge win for her and Anya. She can already picture Indra’s products being one of their most popular ones if they’re able to get them in front of the right people.

“Ideally we would like to start offering your products in a month and a half, two at the latest,” Lexa says.

Halfway into spring is when people really start showing up, so the sooner they can start selling them, the better.

Lexa stays silent while she lets Indra go over what needs to be done in order to make this happen. This is one of the last steps before securing the contract, just going over final numbers and agreements.

Indra had been kind enough to invite her over to her house half an hour away from where she held her previous meeting. She wanted Lexa to see where she grows all her produce and the process they go through from harvest to packaging.

Lexa had gladly accepted the offer. This is exactly why she does more than just send emails with offers to work together. She enjoys getting to know them, likes to understand how hard they work and what it means to them. Seeing it in person will always beat discussing it over email or the phone.

“I think I can distribute some of what I’ve already started producing to you,” Indra says. She’s running her eyes over the paper in front of her. “It may not be as much as you are expecting, but I will also increase production in the next couple of weeks.”

“That’s fine,” Lexa says with a nod. “We are not asking for everything you’ve got. Even just putting something out there, no matter how small, can give us a sense of people’s reception so we can better prepare for next year, if you decide you’d like to continue working with us.”

It has always been extremely important for both Lexa and Anya to establish a good working relationship with their partners. Part of that includes allowing them the space to decide what they want to do and sometimes how they want to do it. They don’t tie them in contracts that may end up being disadvantageous for either one of them.

The business itself is just as important as their main mission: to give space and voice to small, local business owners while offering their help to expand and reach new markets.

“I’m leaving you a copy of the contract,” Lexa says. She reaches into her bag to pull out additional pieces of paper. “You can go over it, take your time and think about it. Then give me a call next week and I’ll send you a digital copy for you to sign.”

Indra takes the papers Lexa is offering her with a nod. After that, it’s small talk until Lexa realizes it’s getting late. She doesn’t want to impose her presence any longer, so she excuses herself and begins her drive back into town.

It takes her almost forty minutes to get back to Clarke and Raven’s. By the time she’s pulling into the driveway it’s a little bit past quarter after six. A car she recognizes from the time she went to Octavia and Lincoln’s housewarming party is parked by the curve, which means Octavia is already here.

She walks in to find all three of them sitting around the living room. Her eyes immediately find Clarke, Clarke who shoots her a shy smile, who lets her eyes roam over her body like she’s taking her in inch by inch. It makes Lexa shiver and she needs to busy herself by taking her shoes off to be able to hide it.

When she’s done she looks up again. She avoids looking at Clarke, looks at the other two instead. Raven is sitting on the couch next to Clarke just like last time, Octavia occupying the chair Lexa sat in the day before.

“Hey, you made it,” Raven greets. “We were starting to get worried, we thought you were lost out there somewhere.”

“Sorry.” Lexa chuckles. “My last meeting ran a little bit longer.”

“No worries. Octavia here was boring us to death talking about her sweet married life.”

“You guys asked,” Octavia says, rolling her eyes at Raven. “And all I said was that Lincoln was doing good.”

“See?” Raven asks. She looks at Lexa. “All she does is talk about Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln.”

“Because  _ you _ asked,” Octavia defends. Clarke laughs while looking between her two friends and it makes Lexa smile.

“Really, it’s just been more like thirty minutes of these two bickering at each other while I silently sit in the middle,” Clarke tells Lexa. “Come join us.”

“Just one sec,” Lexa says. She goes to the guest room to drop her bag off, stops by the kitchen to grab a bottle of beer and returns to the living room a moment later. She sits on the other one-seater sofa, the one closest to Raven. There’s a bowl with chips in the middle of the coffee table and she reaches over to grab a handful before leaning back.

“Enough about Octavia’s plain and predictable life,” Raven says. “We want to hear about you, Lexa.”

Three pairs of eyes looking at her expectantly, she shrugs her right shoulder at them. “Not much to tell, really. I’ve been up since almost eight just working, nothing exciting.”

“Hmm.” Clarke is looking at her with a mischievous smile and Lexa furrows her brow. She’s come to know that look fairly well over the last few weeks. Whatever is going through Clarke’s mind right now, it’s bad news for Lexa. “Did you run into any…” she lets it hang in the air between them and Lexa’s eyes widen. She knows where she’s going with this.

“Clarke,” she warns her.

“ _ Bunnies _ ?” she asks.

Sadly for Lexa not only does Clarke laugh, but Octavia and Raven chuckle, too.

She told them.

“You didn’t,” Lexa says, even though yes, yes she did. She shoots daggers at Clarke, but she just keeps laughing, making her two friends laugh out loud this time.

“She was just worried about you, Lexa,” Raven says. “When you didn’t show up before six we were wondering if maybe a bunny jumped at you on the way home.”

“How could you,” Lexa asks Clarke, pretending to be offended, narrowing her eyes at her.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Clarke says, smug smile tugging at her lips.

“Pettiness is not a good look on you, Clarke,” Lexa tells her.

“I would argue any look is a good look on me,” she shoots back, flirty smile in place and dammit, how is Lexa supposed to sit there and pretend there’s nothing else going on between them when Clarke says things like that?

It’s not fair.

“Cockiness isn’t much better, either,” she says to try and reel her thoughts back in.

“Listen to her, Clarke,” Raven says, pushing Clarke’s knee with her hand. “Maybe that’s why you’re still  _ single _ .”

It’s not lost on Lexa how Raven emphasizes that last word, or how Clarke elbows her on the side. Is Raven trying to play matchmaker? If only she knew she’s a day too late to the game.

“Speaking of single,” Octavia says. She leans forward, places her elbows on her knees and rests her chin on her hands. “Are you seeing anyone, Lexa?”

Alright. So it’s not just Raven, but Octavia’s in it, too. And Clarke has absolutely nothing to do with this if the look of utter terror on her face is anything to go by.

It’s glorious.

Lexa shrugs. “I am, actually,” she admits, barely manages to hide a smirk when Clarke’s eyes widen. “But nothing serious. There’s this girl I’m kinda seeing.” She drops that piece of information like it’s nothing. At this point she’s pretty sure neither one of them is against the idea of two women together, there’s no need to lie about that fact. “But I don’t know.” A pause. A shrug. “I’m not that into her.”

She doesn’t know Raven or Octavia’s reaction to her confession, too busy enjoying Clarke’s silent outrage.

Payback’s a bitch, indeed.

“So,” Raven says. “If you’re not crazy about her, does that mean you’re open to–”

“More chips, anyone?” Clarke interrupts. She stands up and grabs the bowl that’s in front of her. It’s not completely empty, but most of it is gone, so no one bats an eye.

“Sure,” Octavia says. “Will you also grab me another beer, please?”

“On it,” Clarke says. She walks past Raven, then Lexa, her eyes pointedly looking between her and the kitchen. Lexa knows she wants her to follow, but she pretends not to understand. Just sits there and smiles.

Clarke huffs and says, “Lexa?” Rolls her eyes at Lexa’s fake look of confusion. “I need your help.”

“To bring back chips and beer?” Raven asks.

“I’m short,” Clarke says. “I need someone to help me reach for the bag.”

“She’s like, an inch taller than you, Clarke,” Octavia points out. They’re both giving her a hard time and Lexa is loving every second of it.

“Lexa,” Clarke says again and this time she obliges. She chuckles and stands up.

“Of course I’ll help you, Clarke.” She throws in a sweet, innocent smile for good measure and revels in the way Clarke just glares at her.

“We’ll be right back,” Clarke says over her shoulder. She leads them into the kitchen and closes the door behind them just as Raven and Octavia start whispering to each other.

“Where are the chips?” Lexa asks. She knows that’s not the real reason why Clarke asked her to join her, but she wants to rub her desperate attempt to get her alone in her face as much as she can.

Clarke surprises her, though, when she points at a cupboard above the coffee machine. Lexa walks over to it, opens it and is shocked to see actual chips there.

Huh. Maybe she did need her help after all.

Although, as Octavia had pointed out, Lexa is only an inch taller than Clarke, so she’s struggling just as much to grab it.

She stands on her tip-toes, reaching up as much as possible, one hand holding onto the counter while the other stretches above her head, trying to get a hold of the bag. She’s so close, so focused on her task that she doesn’t even hear Clarke approach her.

Doesn’t know she’s there until a warm body presses against her back. They are both wearing thinner clothes this time, Clarke nothing but a t-shirt and Lexa a button up shirt, which means—unlike last night— she can actually feel Clarke’s body against hers, breasts pressed up against her back and  _ fuck _ , she needs to bite down on her lip so she doesn’t make a sound.

“What was it that you said, Lexa?” Clarke husks. Lexa is frozen in place, arm still outstretched, shirt riding up. Clarke takes advantage of this fact by sneaking her hands under her shirt, fingertips running from her sides, up and around.

Lexa comes down from her tip-toes, unable to hold her position any longer. Her shirt comes back down, but Clarke’s hands are already underneath and there’s no one to push them away.

Throat tight, Lexa gulps, grips the counter in front of her when Clarke’s hot breath tickles her ear. “You’re not that into this girl you’re seeing, huh?”

Green eyes close when fingertips rake up, short nails brushing over each one of her ribs. Her breathing has become heavy, elaborate, and it doesn’t help when she feels Clarke push up on her feet enough so she can take Lexa’s earlobe between her teeth.

She wraps her lips around it, sucks on it and Lexa all but loses it.

She moans, hand flying up to cover her mouth as soon as the sound escapes her lips. She swallows, hopes the people in the other room didn’t hear her, struggles to stop herself from moaning again when Clarke’s tongue runs over the shell of her ear.

She leans her head back to give Clarke better access, immediately missing the warmth of her body when Clarke takes a step back, leaving her feeling cold—except between her legs where all her blood has rushed to.

She opens her eyes and slowly turns around, finds small comfort in the fact that Clarke looks just as affected as she feels. Clarke takes a step forward again, pushing up against Lexa, forcing her backside to hit the counter.

Clarke angles her head and leans in, so close Lexa can almost taste her and she licks her lips in anticipation, enjoys the way Clarke’s eyes follow the path of her tongue.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, voice huskier than usual. She leans in a fraction closer, lips brushing when she speaks next. “I don’t think she’s that into you, either.”

Her stepping back is like a bucket of ice. Lexa almost whimpers, but refuses to give Clarke the satisfaction, even though she can already see a triumphant smile on her face.

Clarke walks over to the fridge, grabs the beer Octavia had asked for. “Don’t forget the chips,” she says through chuckles, leaving Lexa behind as she exits the kitchen.

What was she saying about payback again?

::::

Returning to the living room after Clarke’s little stunt proves to be slightly difficult, but Lexa is nothing if not stoic; she refuses to let it phase her.

At least not outwardly.

Internally she’s still a mess, desperate to kiss Clarke again, the throbbing between her legs almost unbearable. She squirms in her seat just thinking about how good it felt to have Clarke’s hands on her, but she tries to focus on the conversation at hand. Doesn’t miss the way Clarke keeps looking at her when Raven and Octavia aren’t watching.

There’s something exhilarating about this—about stolen glances and shared looks, about wanting to kiss Clarke, but knowing she can’t, about having this little secret between them that no one else is privy to yet.

She smiles when she catches blue eyes fixed on her lips. She brings her bottom lip between her teeth, keeps it there, watches Clarke’s mouth part slightly, the wobble of her throat. Every little movement, every little sign that Clarke’s just as lustful as she is, goes unnoticed by the two other women sitting in the living room, but Lexa sees each and every single one.

She can’t wait until she can have her way with Clarke again.

Attention returning to the exchange at hand, Lexa decides it’s time to participate again. She’s had the opportunity to calm down and is ready to engage in conversation now that her brain has returned to its full form.

She wants to get to know Clarke’s friends. Even though she had a chance to talk to both of them last time she was here, it was mostly superficial. She’d like to learn more.

“So how did you all end up becoming friends?” Lexa asks after a dull in conversation. Clarke is still watching her, but her features have softened, her smile no longer sly, just pleasant.

“I have the boring story,” Octavia says. “Clarke and my brother, Bellamy, were friends in high school. I would hang out with them sometimes, so we knew about each other. Then, when I moved here to go to college a couple of years after she did, I reached out again.”

“At first I think we both took it as a ‘I’m here in case you need anything’ type of thing,” Clarke says. “But I invited her to a couple of parties so she could get to know more people and we just kind of started hanging out after that.”

“Luckily for Clarke, I came into the picture before that,” Raven says. She pats Clarke’s knee. “This one right here’s a hot mess, don’t know if you’ve noticed?”

Lexa doesn’t say anything, hoping her silence will prompt Raven to continue. She’s definitely noticed one of those things. Clarke raises an eyebrow in her direction and Lexa just shrugs in response.

“She came rolling into the shop with a car so messed up I had to tell her it was time to move on and get a new one. But, don’t know if you know this yet or not—Clarke can be very stubborn.”

Clarke glares at her friend. “I had a good reason.”

“You did,” Raven says. “Doesn’t mean you’re not stubborn.” Lexa laughs at that, smiling when Clarke’s glare is redirected at her next.

She doesn’t know why, but she really likes it when Clarke looks at her that way.

“It was my dad’s first car. He kept it all this time, waited until my sixteenth birthday to give it to me. He tried his best to maintain it, but as I found out after Raven took a look at it, turns out he wasn’t very good at it.”

“Uh-uh,” Raven says with a shake of her head. “That thing was a  _ mess _ . It took a lot of work to get it up and running again, but we did it.”

The car parked outside didn’t look that old to her. As if reading her thoughts, Clarke explains, “I drove it to the ground, until the thing couldn’t go anywhere anymore. That was a few years ago.”

She speaks of it fondly—both the car and her dad. Clarke hasn’t brought him up yet, and Lexa wonders what their relationship is like now. Is it any better than the one she has with her mom?

“When did Lincoln come into the picture?” Lexa asks. Despite their earlier remarks, Lexa gets the impression they’re all very fond of him. She didn’t really get to talk to him, but from what Lexa got to see, he seemed like a really nice guy.

“Oh, those two met not long after O moved here,” Raven says.

“Sometimes we joke around and say she ended up moving here just because she and Lincoln needed to meet,” Clarke says. She pats Octavia’s knee and smiles at her fondly. “Like the universe needed to get them together.”

That’s a very romantic way of putting it for someone who doesn’t do relationships, Lexa thinks. She originally thought Clarke’s stance included other people, too, but it seems to be more of a personal decision; like it’s just not for her.

Lexa can sympathize with that. She used to think relationships were for her, believed in meant-to-be and that if you met ‘the one’ nothing could ever get in the way. 

She learned the hard way that’s not the case. At least not for her. Maybe for people like Octavia and Lincoln.

But not her.

“More like shove them,” Raven says with a laugh. “They were inseparable from the moment they met.”

“Yeah, this one was a goner.”

While earlier the topic was cause for teasing, this time around both Clarke and Raven just seem genuinely happy for their friend.

“How did you and this girl you’re seeing meet?” Octavia’s cheeks are flushed and Lexa thinks this is her attempt to redirect the conversation to anyone that’s not her.

It catches Lexa by surprise. She’s mid-sip when Octavia asks and she almost chokes on the gulp of water she was about to swallow.

She pretends to cough for longer than necessary just so she can buy some time to try and come up with a convincing answer.

She did not think this through.

Green eyes search blue in a panic, silently asks for help, a lifeline, anything. But of course Clarke is enjoying this. She’s smirking, eyebrow raised, mouth shut.

Great.

“Uh.” Lexa coughs again, scrambles for an answer. “We just, uh, met at a work thing.” 

It’s the only thing she can come up with. She truly hasn’t done much but bury herself in her business for the past year and a half. But there’s a slight truth to her story. She did meet the last person she hooked up with before Clarke at a work related event. So it’s fine, she’s not that far off.

“But like I said, it’s nothing,” she says with a shrug. She needs them to stop asking questions before she runs out of believable answers. She isn’t even sure she managed to pull it off just now.

Both Raven and Octavia nod, ready to change subjects. 

But of course Clarke isn’t.

“What’s your favorite thing about her?” she asks. Lexa wants to kill her.

“Definitely not her lack of empathy,” she replies. Clarke chuckles, but the other two women look taken aback by her answer. Out of context it does seem to be a pretty mean thing to say, even if she already established she’s ‘not that into her’.

She needs to provide a more believable answer, but she won’t do it without making Clarke pay for putting her in that spot to begin with. 

A sly smile appears on her face when she speaks next, “Several things, actually.” She looks straight at Clarke, eyes unwavering. “She’s a really good kisser, for one.” Green eyes flicker to Clarke’s lips for a split second, long enough for only Clarke to know the intention behind it. Clarke swallows thickly. “But also.”

Not wanting to push her luck, she looks at Raven.

“You know when you’re with someone and you can see, feel the effect you have on them, even if you haven’t even touched them?” Raven nods and Lexa turns to look at Octavia, but not without letting her eyes briefly roam over Clarke’s face. Satisfied with the way Clarke turns her head to the side to avoid looking at Lexa, cheeks flushing, her attention lands on Octavia. “Yeah. She’s not very good at hiding it. And I really like that.”

“I don’t know,” Raven says with a laugh. “You sound pretty into her to me.”

Lexa chuckles, shrugs.

“She has her moments.”

::::

“You’re wrong, you know,” Clarke says in a hushed tone.

They’re standing by Lexa’s doorway, just like the night before, each one on either side of it. There’s no more than a foot or two separating them and Lexa’s hands are itching to grip Clarke’s hips so she can pull her inside.

Octavia has already left and if Raven wasn’t still in the kitchen doing god knows what, Lexa would. She would pull Clarke into the room, close the door behind them and push her up against it to kiss and lick and suck every expanse of skin she could get her lips on.

It’s all she’s been able to think about since their moment in the kitchen.

Honestly, it’s all she’s been able to think about since her eyes landed on Clarke as soon as she walked through the door.

“Am I?” Lexa raises an eyebrow at her. “About what?” she asks, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I’m perfectly good at hiding it.”

Lexa doesn’t even need to acknowledge the fact that this is an admission that Lexa can indeed affect Clarke just by looking at her. They’re well past that. It’s pretty clear what they do to each other, neither one of them needs to bother denying it.

“Your friends may be clueless,” Lexa says. “But you can’t hide it from me.”

“Who says it’s not because I haven’t been trying to hide it?”

It’s a challenge, Lexa knows it.

“You think you could hide it if you wanted to, Clarke?” Lexa’s voice is lower and Clarke fails to hide the way her breath hitches. Lexa chuckles.

“I haven’t started yet.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“Okay,” Lexa says. “Start now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Right here. Act like you don’t want me, Clarke.”

“Easy,” Clarke says with an eye roll. She looks to the side, blinks. When her eyes return to Lexa, she has completely schooled her features.

Lexa smiles. Sound still carries from the kitchen, which means Raven is still busy and won’t be showing up yet. 

Perfect. She doesn’t need much time.

Much like the night before, Lexa lets her eyes roam over Clarke’s body. Slowly, taking in every inch of her. Unlike last night, though, they’re standing in a well-lit space, which means Lexa can actually pay attention to parts of Clarke she could barely make out before.

And she’s not shy about it.

Not shy about the way her eyes stop at the curve of Clarke’s breasts, licking her lips when she takes in perked nipples pushing through the fabric of her shirt. She could count that as a victory already, but she wants concrete proof.

She searches for it, eyes moving further down, over Clarke’s stomach. She thinks of what it would feel like to run her tongue over it, to bite sensitive spots.

Good thing she’s not the one who has to hide her reaction; her heavy breathing would’ve already given her away.

Eyes moving down, down, she lands on the spot between Clarke’s legs and fuck. She wants to unbutton her jeans, slide them and any additional piece of clothing down her legs. Would kneel right there and then if it means she could taste her already.

She bites her lip, tries to contain the guttural moan that’s threatening to escape her lips at the mere thought of having Clarke like that.

When she snaps her eyes back up, she’s met with slightly parted lips and dark blue eyes. She’s getting there, but this is all refutable evidence. She needs more.

A step forward, then another and she’s standing in Clarke’s space.

“ _ Tsk _ ,” Clarke admonishes. Her voice is hoarse, huskier than usual and it drives Lexa insane that she can’t just fucking kiss her already. “You said without touching.” She looks less convinced than she sounds.

Lexa smiles. “I wasn’t planning on it,” she says. But she leans in, her cheek almost brushing Clarke’s, lips right by her ear when she rasps, “You have no idea what I would’ve let you do to me in the kitchen, if you had tried.”

That earns her a whimper, a fucking  _ whimper _ , Clarke’s body swaying, chasing her when Lexa takes a step back with a triumphant smile.

“See?” She says, throat dry. “I wasn’t wrong.”

“You cheated,” Clarke accuses. It’s a desperate attempt to grasp at straws, Lexa knows it, because that noise was the last of a long list of signs that everything Lexa did and said affected her.

Lexa smirks. “Whatever you say, Clarke.”

Clarke groans, is about to lurch forward, when Raven calls for her.

“Yeah?” Clarke calls back. She lets out an exasperated sigh and Lexa smiles.

“I need your help with something.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “The timing on this one,” she whispers to Lexa. “Be right there,” she shouts. Before she leaves, though, she casts one last look at Lexa and says, “Just wait until I have my way with you. It’ll erase that stupid smirk off your face.”

It sounds like a promise.

“I can’t wait,” Lexa says.

“Are you gonna get ready for bed now?”

Lexa nods. Once again she needs to make sure to get enough sleep. She has to spend all day at the market tomorrow and doesn’t want to have to stifle yawns while talking to some of the vendors.

“You need to stop having important things to do the next day so I don’t have to feel guilty about wanting to keep you up,” Clarke says.

Lexa chuckles. “I know.”

“Sleep well, Lexa.” She rests her hand on her chest for a brief second.

How is it possible for Clarke to make her knees weak one second, and then make her heart flutter in her chest the next?

“You too, Clarke.”

::::

Professionalism is something Lexa takes pride in. She always tries to ensure she treats every single vendor, partner and associate with the same amount of respect, no matter how big or small their business is, regardless of the dollar amount they help generate her own business.

Patience is one of her main traits. She understands she works in a field where she may encounter people who are not willing to accept what her and Anya have to offer just based on pure looks and stereotypical perceptions.

What she doesn’t stand, however, is when said people decide to express their reluctance in a sexist and disrespectful manner, like Mr. Wallace is doing right now. She wishes she could blame it on being brought up in different times, but Cage can’t be a day over forty, and that’s if Lexa is being generous.

No person under the age of fifty should be allowed to hold these archaic views of women anymore. Yet, she still comes across his type time and time again.

It’s exhausting.

At this point she just wants to walk away. She didn’t need more than two minutes with him to realize there was no way they could build a good working relationship, but now she’s stuck here listening to him rant about how her and Anya will never understand the hard work that goes into his craft.

The more he talks, the worse Lexa’s mood gets. It doesn’t help that she’s been freezing her ass for the past two hours. When she had been at the market four weeks ago, her jacket had proved to be a hindrance. This time around she decided to leave it behind, wearing nothing but a thin undershirt and a red and black flannel, only to find out the temperatures weren’t going to rise above forty all day.

The only thing keeping her from losing all her patience is the text she had received from Clarke a couple of hours ago.

‘ _ Good luck today :) Text me when you’re done? _ ’

She’s way past being able to wait until she’s done. Especially if that means standing here listening to this idiot go on and on about traditions and men’s hard work and—

“Thank you, Cage,” Lexa cuts him off, unable to hear any more. She may be coming off unprofessional, but it’s not like any amount of professionalism could’ve saved this encounter from being anything but a waste of time.

He seems taken aback by the abrupt interruption, but quickly recovers. He nods.

“Of course.”

Lexa doesn’t even bother to hand him her card. Even if he were somehow interested in exploring the possibility of working together, there’s no way Anya and her would be willing to put up with him.

If he wants to drive his business to the ground, that’s his problem.

It’s almost painful taking her phone out of her pocket, her cold fingers refusing to cooperate, but she manages. She pulls up Clarke’s messages and writes a reply.

‘ _ I’m finally done. _ ’

While she waits to hear back she starts the walk back to her car, smiling and waving at Indra on her way out. Her phone buzzes in her hand just as she’s about to get in.

When she looks at it she finds a pinned map with an address below it.

It’s followed by, ‘ _ Come over? _ ’

Those two words make Lexa’s entire exhausting day disappear in an instant.

When she had left in the morning, Clarke still hadn’t come out of her room and Lexa had to fight the urge to knock on her door just to check if she was awake. She wasn’t sure if Clarke had any plans for her day after work, but silently hoped if she did they included her.

She’s happy to see that’s the case.

The flutter in her stomach becomes uncontrollable at the thought of seeing Clarke again, her body humming with excitement. She’s still feeling very cold on the outside, but a familiar warmth spreads through her veins just thinking about her.

Images of Clarke standing by the doorway last night invade her mind. They’ve been trying to rule her thoughts all day, but she had pushed them away in favor of focusing on work. But now that that’s out of the way… all she can think about is Clarke. Clarke’s parted lips, blown pupils, the little noise she made when Lexa whispered in her ear.

  
She can’t help but wonder what other noises she could draw from her, swallows at the thought of the things she would do to try and find out.

Needing to clear her thoughts if she actually wants to see Clarke instead of just thinking about it, Lexa returns her attention back to her phone and taps on the link included in Clarke’s previous message. It opens the GPS and as she suspected, the pinned location points to Clarke’s work, which happens to be eight minutes away walking distance.

That’s not terribly far, so Lexa decides to walk instead of drive. She could hop in her car, but it would probably take just as long to get in it, drive to the museum, find parking and go inside. She sticks her hands in her jean pockets, hopes it’s enough to help warm them up.

It’s seven until five when she’s pushing the Museum’s door open. She’s grateful for the temperature difference when she feels her face and hands begin to unfreeze. It’s not enough, but it’s better than being outside, where the temperature has begun considerably dropping alongside the sun setting in the horizon.

The museum is pretty empty, on par with what you’d expect considering it closes in less than ten minutes. Lexa walks further in, looking around, trying to find blonde locks and blue eyes, but Clarke is nowhere to be found.

“Excuse me,” a voice says from behind her. She turns around to find a woman regarding her. She’s a few inches taller than her and is looking at her curiously. “We’re about to close,” she informs her. She’s wearing the same type of blue collared shirt she’s seen Clarke wear before.

“Oh, I know, I’m just supposed to meet–”

“She’s with me,” a voice Lexa knows belongs to Clarke says. She smiles at the sound, her heart automatically beating more intently when she registers footsteps quickly approaching her from behind.

A hand lands on the small of her back and warmth spreads all over her at the small gesture. The museum’s central heating has nothing on Clarke’s touch. Lexa’s sure she could warm up a whole entire city with it.

“Oh, sorry, Clarke,” the other woman says. It’s not lost on Lexa how her eyes follow Clarke’s hand, eyebrows knitting when she sees where it landed. “I didn’t realize–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke says, waving her off with her free hand. “We’re about to get outta here.”

“Okay,” she says with a smile Lexa notices doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It was nice meeting you…”

“Lexa,” she offers.

“Nice to meet you, Alexis,” she says with a curt nod. “I’m Niylah.”

Lexa narrows her eyes at her. Did she just call her—she shakes her head, unwilling to waste anymore time now that Clarke’s with her.

“Nice to meet you, too, Nadia.”

She feels a sense of satisfaction in the way Niylah glares at her.

She’s not about to let her get to her, but she’s unwilling to let her get away with it, either. 

“Anyway, we’ll get out of your hair,” Clarke says. If she noticed the small mispronunciations, she doesn’t comment on it. She just gently nudges Lexa toward the exit, hand never leaving her back. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, Clarke,” Niylah calls as they reach the door. Lexa can feel her eyes on them all the way until they step into the sidewalk.

Once outside, the hand that was pressed against her lower back falls to Clarke’s side and Lexa immediately misses the touch. She also feels cold again, her time spent indoors not enough to fully warm her up.

They walk to the closest intersection and Clarke hits the button so the pedestrian crossing turns to green. Lexa looks at the woman standing next to her, smiles at the way she’s bouncing on the ball of her feet.

“Where do you want to go now?” Clarke asks, her eyes fixed on the stop light in front of them.

“Anywhere that sells coffee, please,” Lexa says. Her fingertips are starting to go numb again and she’s pretty sure her face is about to freeze and fall off.

“I know the perfect place.” Clarke smiles.

The light changes to green and they begin to walk side by side in complete silence. Lexa really enjoys these moments, like the other night when they walked to the lookout and then back to Clarke’s house. There’s not a lot of people she’s comfortable being around in complete silence, but Clarke is definitely one of them.

Memories of that night inevitably pop into her head. That was two nights ago and Lexa can’t help but think she hasn’t spent enough time kissing Clarke since then. She looks to her side, openly staring at the woman walking beside her, green eyes zeroing in on Clarke’s lips.

She really, really wants to kiss her.

“Lexa,” Clarke rasps. Eyes snap up just as Clarke turns her head to look at her.

“Yes?” Lexa swallows, wonders if there’s any chance Clarke didn’t catch her.

“You have to stop looking at me like that.”

It sounds like a plea.

“What if I can’t?”

Suddenly the air around them doesn’t feel like enough. Next thing she knows Clarke is grabbing her arm, pulling her along the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?” Lexa asks from behind, tries her hardest not to trip while following Clarke’s lead.

“To get coffee. I know a shortcut.”

Lexa narrows her eyes, but doesn’t say anything. She lets herself be dragged for a few feet until Clarke makes a sharp right, turning into an empty alley.

“Clarke, what are you–”

The words die in her mouth when lips crash into her. The force of the kiss and the woman responsible for it push Lexa back until her body hits the brick wall behind her. The surface is rough, the impact almost painful, but Lexa doesn’t care when Clarke kisses her like that—desperate, hungry, yearning.

Like she’s been needing this just as much as Lexa has.

It’s breathtaking and mind-numbing and everything Lexa has been thinking about since the night before.

The longer they kiss the rougher, the dirtier it gets, all tongues and teeth. Biting, sucking, pulling, licking. They pull away for a brief second, Lexa ready to lean in for more, surprised when lips move over to her jaw instead. The same tongue poking out to trace her jawline, teeth sinking into sensitive skin.

Lexa shivers under Clarke’s exploring tongue, angling her head to grant better access. Clarke takes the hint, slides her mouth down, licking the expanse of her neck until she finds a sensitive spot, where she wraps her lips around and sucks, eliciting a deep, throaty moan from Lexa.

Her hands fly out to grip Clarke’s hips, to pull her closer, to feel her skin, but Clarke’s own hands stop her. Clarke grabs her arms by the wrists, pushes them above Lexa’s head, holds them in place while her tongue keeps working wonders on her neck and fuck—how wonderful would it feel to have that tongue, those lips all over her body.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, pleads. The tension building between her legs is becoming almost unbearable, she needs something, anything, to help relieve the pressure.

Clarke pulls away from her neck, pupils so dilated Lexa can barely see any hints of blue. Clarke’s breathing heavy, just like her, lips swollen.

Lexa needs more. So much more.

As if reading her thoughts, Clarke grabs Lexa’s wrists and moves them so her hands are overlapping. She slides her left hand down, Lexa tensing in anticipation, Clarke’s right hand traveling up to hold Lexa’s in place.

As soon as Clarke’s palm lands on Lexa’s joined hands, Clarke freezes.

Not understanding what’s happening, Lexa’s eyes fly open. Her breathing still ragged, she blinks a few times to try and clear the haze.

“Lexa,” Clarke says. She lets go of Lexa’s hands and her arm comes down reluctantly. Once they’re by her side, Clarke takes her hands again and brings them in front of her.

“Lex,” Clarke says. That’s the second time she’s shortened her name and each time she has sounded so gentle. Lexa’s stomach tightens. “You’re so cold.” She holds Lexa’s hands up to her face, places a soft kiss on her knuckles.

Lexa had completely forgotten all about being cold, but now that Clarke is covering her hands with her own warm ones, it’s obvious they’re still freezing.

“I’m fine,” Lexa says, because so what if she’s cold? She’s sure they would have warmed up eventually, even if they feel a little numb right now.

Clarke shakes her head. “No,” she says, leaving no room for a rebuttal. “Come on. Let’s go get you some coffee.”

Lexa wants to complain, especially when Clarke looks just as out of breath and every bit as turned on as she feels, but decides against it when Clarke reaches out to grab her hand. It immediately feels nicer, like Clarke’s warm touch is chasing the numbness away, and Lexa basks in how Clarke holds onto her as she guides her for a few blocks into the coffee shop, never letting go until she has a steaming cup of coffee safely wrapped between her palms.

::::

Tucked in the corner of the local coffee shop, Clarke and Lexa share a spot on the worn out leather couch, both turned slightly so they can face each other. Between the cup of coffee she’s almost finished and the overall temperature inside the store, Lexa is finally starting to feel her fingertips again.

She’s not sure it’s worth stopping what they were doing, but she’s still grateful for Clarke’s concern. It was a sweet gesture, albeit a bit cruel, but it’s been about twenty minutes since they left that alley and Lexa thinks she can begin to form more coherent sentences now that her blood has been redistributed.

Her underwear is still ruined, but she will have to live with that.

“Feeling warmer?” Clarke asks, smiling over a white lid.

“Yes, thank you. I appreciate that you care, although maybe not so much that you stopped,” Lexa quips.

Clarke shrugs. “What can I say, I have a lot riding on those fingers.”

Lexa almost chokes on the last sip of coffee, caught completely off guard by Clarke’s remark. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, really, but whatever it was, it wasn’t  _ that _ . Clarke laughs.

“You okay?”

Lexa nods, feels her cheeks reddening, hates the fact that Clarke was able to have her pushed up against a wall, ready and willing to have her do anything she wanted without batting an eye, but a simple comment about  _ riding _ and  _ fingers _ immediately disarms her.

“Anyway,” Lexa says in an attempt to lead the conversation back into safe territory. Clarke already almost killed her by stopping what they were doing, if she keeps talking about it Lexa will absolutely die. “How was work?”

“It was alright, thankfully not too busy. But as always, I’m just happy it’s over.” Clarke smiles, but it looks self-deprecating. Lexa has been noticing this more lately, how whenever Clarke talks about work it’s mostly about how she’s glad her day is over instead of anything that happened during her working hours.

The couch they’re currently occupying is a two-seater, just big enough for the two of them, but it’s cushioned and cozy, so the longer they spend sitting on it talking, the more comfortable they get. Clarke moves to sit on it sideways, back resting again the armrest, legs crossed in front of her.

“How come you had to stay until close?”

It’s Sunday and Lexa knows for the most part Sundays afternoon aren’t extremely busy. It could be time Clarke could spend working on her own personal projects instead.

“Monty, the guy who was supposed to work the afternoon shift, called in sick,” Clarke explains.

The corner they’re in is illuminated by a soft, yellow light, and it gives their spot a certain sense of privacy despite the otherwise busy shop. It feels like it’s just the two of them, although Lexa thinks that may have more to do with Clarke’s ability to make the world around her disappear.

“Mr. Kane asked me if I could stay in case Niylah needed some help, so I did.”

The mention of Clarke’s coworker reminds Lexa of something that caught her attention earlier.

Slightly out of the blue, she says, “You know she’s totally into you, right?”

Clarke takes a second to realize who Lexa is referring to. She chuckles when it clicks.

“I mean, it would make sense. We did sleep together.”

Lexa laughs, everything falling perfectly in place.

“That would explain why she was shooting daggers at me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Clarke says with a shake of her head. Blonde locks fall in front of her face and she pushes them behind her ears. “That was over a year ago. We’re way past that.”

“I don’t think she is,” Lexa observes, absentmindedly picking at her jeans. 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, smiling.

“I’m serious, though. If looks could kill, you’d have had the police go retrieve my corpse already.” That earns her a hearty laugh, blue eyes shining and Lexa smiles. “I don’t blame her, though. You happen to be very,  _ very _ attractive.”

“Oh, yeah?” Clarke asks, looking at Lexa with a raised eyebrow. It makes her stomach flutter. “Whatever happened to you not being that into me, huh?”

Lexa’s eyes narrow. “What? Who said I was talking about you?” She tries to keep a straight face, but it’s hard when Clarke gasps.

“Were you not?” she challenges. Her eyes twinkle, like she knows the answer to her question, but Lexa continues her charade.

“I said I met her at a work thing, Clarke. We didn’t meet at a work thing.”

Clarke laughs, shakes her head. “Whoever she is, I feel sorry she’s stuck with you.”

“Hm. Rich coming from someone who  _ chooses _ to spend her time with me.”

“I’m stuck with you, too, you know? You’re staying with me, I have to be a gracious host and all.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Clarke.”

Clarke lifts her right foot to push her thigh, Lexa’s hand shooting to grab her by the ankle before she can go again. Foot trapped in Lexa’s grip, Clarke retreats, going back to crossing it.

“Whatever.” An eye roll. ”You still admitted you find me attractive. Quote-unquote very,  _ very _ attractive.”

“What can I say,” Lexa says with a shrug, choosing to be blunt. “I could be blind and I would still be able to tell how undeniably attractive you are.”

It pays off, Clarke’s cheeks turning an adorable shade of red. Lexa could live just to get her all flustered like that.

“By the way,” Clarke says. She’s smiling, almost like she’s trying to contain her laughter. “Remember last night when Raven asked me to help her in the kitchen?” Lexa nods. “She wanted to ask if I was okay.”

Lexa furrows her brow, tilts her head slightly. “Okay? Why, why wouldn’t you be?”

Clarke smirks. “She may be aware that I happen to find you very,  _ very _ attractive, too,” she says, parroting Lexa’s words. “So when you revealed that you were seeing someone, she wanted to check up on me.”

Lexa chuckles. “Huh. Does that mean you’ve talked to her about me?” Clarke shrugs. Lexa waits, but moves on when she realizes she won’t get an answer. “What did you say?”

“I told her it was fine. That I was fine.” There’s a pause and Lexa feels a shift around them before she sees it. It starts when Clarke locks eyes with her, followed by the slow lick of her lips. It ends with Clarke hoarsely saying, “Told her you could do whatever the hell you wanted to her.”

Lexa’s mouth goes dry in an instant.

“Wh-whatever I want?” It’s not supposed to come out as a stutter, but it does, because the prospect of doing whatever the hell she wants to Clarke effectively short-circuits her brain.

Clarke nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and bites.

“Anything at all.”

Lexa gulps.

“Lexa?”

A breathless, “Yeah?”

“Let’s go back to my place.”

She doesn’t need to ask her twice.

::::

Having to drive back to Clarke’s place in two separate cars is a nightmare. It’s so bad, in fact, that her brain chooses to not even register the trip. All she knows is that now she’s standing outside of the house’s front door while Clarke struggles to insert the right key into the keyhole.

“I may have to teach you a thing or two before I let you get anywhere near me,” Lexa whispers after Clarke’s third attempt at inserting the metal object.

She’s pressed up against Clarke’s back, hands already exploring her front, lifting Clarke’s shirt just enough so she can slide her hands underneath. For days she’s been wondering how Clarke’s stomach will react to her touch, and she’s delighted to feel it twitching under her fingertips.

“Maybe,” Clarke says through frustrated puffs of breath, “if you stopped for a second,” she half-heartedly swats her hands away, “I would be able to focus long enough to show you exactly how good I am at inserting things into tight holes.”

The words register and Lexa can’t help but snort. She buries her face in Clarke’s hair, trying but failing to control her shaking shoulders. Her hands stop exploring, her arms wrapping around Clarke’s waist to pull her closer.

Now that she’s no longer a distraction, Clarke finally manages to unlock the door.

Letting go of her waist to give Clarke enough freedom to move, they step into the house in a fit of giggles, intoxicated with nothing but each other. Lexa ready to reach for Clarke’s shirt so she can spin her around and crash into her.

She almost runs into Clarke when she suddenly stops, not just her movements, but her laughter, too.

“Clarke, what–”

Lexa steps to the side to see what stopped Clarke in her tracks. Her eyes land on the body lying on the couch. It immediately sobers Lexa up, too.

Raven’s home.

_ God dammit _ .

“Hey. You’re home,” Raven regards them, but doesn’t even lift her head off the couch. “What were you guys laughing about?” 

Two pairs of eyes widen in panic, but Raven doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes barely open. 

“Uhh,” Lexa says, scrambling for something to say.

“Lexa saw a bunny!” Clarke blurts out.

Lexa’s head snaps to look at Clarke. “Seriously, Clarke?” she whispers harshly. “Yeah, and Clarke was worried she didn’t have a remote control with her to defend us,” she says to everyone in the room.

Clarke glares at her. Lexa gives her a one-shoulder shrug in return.

Then they both notice Raven didn’t laugh. Not even a chuckle.

Clarke knits her brows, shoots Lexa an apologetic look and walks over to the couch to sit by her friend’s feet.

“Raven?” she asks, placing a hand on Raven’s knee. “What’s wrong? I thought you were hanging out with Octavia.”

That’s why they thought they could come back to the house. Clarke had told Lexa her two friends had made plans to hang out and that Raven wouldn’t be back for another few hours.

“I’m not feeling well,” Raven mumbles. She turns from her fetal position onto her back, arm coming up to cover her face. “I don’t know what it is.”

The longer she speaks, the more Lexa starts noticing things like how stuffy her nose is or how tight her throat sounds. Looks like someone may be coming down with a cold.

“Where’s your car?” Clarke asks, rubbing soothing circles on Raven’s leg. “It’s not outside.”

“O dropped me off. I was shivering for a while, she didn’t want to let me drive. She offered to stay, but I didn’t want her to catch whatever the hell this is.”

Clarke nods. Worrying her lip between her teeth, looks at Lexa. “You should probably avoid being here, Lexa. You don’t want to get sick, either.”

Lexa shakes her head, takes a step forward. “No. Let me help.”

This is not how she thought she was going to spend her Sunday evening, but she wants to be helpful. She can push the uncomfortable feeling between her legs long enough to be useful.

At first Clarke ignores her, returns her attention back to Raven.

“Have you taken anything?” She pushes Raven’s arm away from her face. Raven grunts, but doesn’t do anything to stop her, just shakes her head in response. Clarke touches her forehead with the back of her hand.“You’re burning up, Rae,” Clarke points out.

“I’m fine,” she replies.

She’s clearly not fine.

“I’ll be right back,” Clarke says. She stands up and walks to the kitchen, grabbing Lexa’s hand on the way there. She lets go once they're inside the other room.

“I mean it, Lexa,” Clarke says in an authoritative tone Lexa hasn’t quite heard before. “You’re better off going to your room and avoiding every other space in this house.”

Lexa shakes her head again. “I want to help,” she insists.

She feels bad for Raven, wants to be able to do something to help her feel better. But she also wants to keep spending time with Clarke. Who cares if it means she could potentially catch a cold?

“Lexa,” Clarke says. She takes a step closer to her, brings her hand up to cup her cheek. Green eyes flutter when the pad of her thumb brushes against her skin. “Raven never gets sick. Like, ever. I can count on one hand how many times she’s gotten sick since I’ve known her.”

Lexa opens her mouth to protest, but stops at Clarke’s stern look.

“That means that when she’s sick, she’s really sick. That’s probably not just a cold, I’m betting she has the flu.”

“All my shots are up to date,” Lexa offers with a hopeful smile.

Clarke laughs. “Come on. Don’t be stubborn,” she says. It’s said softly and with a smile, no bad intentions behind her words. “You can’t afford to get sick, Lexa. We’ve talked extensively about how important the next couple of months are for your business. If you get sick,” she shakes her head. “Imagine if you get sick because you stayed with us. Do you think Anya will ever let you come back?”

Lexa laughs, joined by Clarke a second later. She sighs, resigned. Clarke’s right, she has too much to do before mid-Spring and if she gets sick right now, like really sick, she won’t be able to do any of them.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke apologizes. Why, Lexa doesn’t know. It’s not her fault.

“Don’t be,” Lexa says. “I get it.”

Blue eyes flicker to Lexa’s lips and oh.  _ Oh _ . That’s what she meant.

“I’m sorry, too,” Lexa says then. “Maybe after Raven’s safely tucked in bed you could…” She lets the implication hang between them.

Clarke’s throat wobbles, but her eyes clue Lexa in on what her answer is going to be before she even says it.

“Raven doesn’t usually get sick, but when she does she turns into the biggest cry baby you’ll ever meet. She’ll want me to stay with her tonight.”

Lexa nods. “Of course,” she smiles.

Clarke takes another step forward, this time so close to Lexa their toes touch.

“I promise, though,” Clarke husks. “I’ll make it up to you next time.”

As if to try and convey what she means, Clarke pulls Lexa to her, bringing their lips together. They’ve shared a total of four kisses over the weekend, all of them a different kind of intensity. Their first kiss was shy, the second one exploring, the third one challenging, the fourth one hungry and rough.

But this one?

Fuck.

This one is unhurried, languid. Clarke moves her mouth against Lexa’s with a patience she hadn’t shown up until now, her tongue darting out just enough to brush against her lips until Lexa parts them. And when she does, she pushes in gradually, tongue brushing against hers, licking her deliciously slow.

She thinks if there’s one kiss that’ll kill her, this will be the one.

Clarke steps back way too soon. Lexa leans forward, trying to chase swollen lips, but Clarke stops her with a hand to her chest, dropping the one on her cheek.

“Okay, that was a mistake.” Clarke laughs. Her voice is rough, her eyes a shade of blue Lexa has never seen before. “Get out of here.” She playfully pushes Lexa’s shoulder, smile tugging at her lips. “Go to your room before you make me a terrible, terrible friend.”

Lexa chuckles. “You sure I can’t change your mind?” she asks, even though she’s already taking a step back.

“That’s the problem, Lex.” Clarke swallows. “I’m pretty sure you could.”

::::

The last time Lexa had visited she left without a chance to say goodbye. She wanted to see Clarke one more time before heading back home, but she wasn’t awake yet, so Lexa had just left a note and walked out the door.

This time around leaving weighs heavier on her chest. There’s no way she can leave without seeing Clarke one more time.

Even though Anya had told her there was no need to get up early since their meeting got pushed, Lexa still needs to hit the road before ten so she and Anya can catch up.

It’s quarter til when Lexa is done packing. She zips up her suitcase, lifts the handle and places her laptop on top. She still hasn’t heard any noise coming from either one of the other rooms, but she’s determined to see Clarke even if it means looking for her in Raven’s bedroom.

It proves unnecessary when a door opens behind her just as she’s placing her bags by the front door.

“I can’t believe it’s Monday already,” Clarke says. She’s coming out of Raven’s room, hair messy and voice raspy from sleep. Lexa smiles at the sight.

“I know. The weekend flew by.”

Clarke’s eyes dart to the suitcase by the door and then back at Lexa.

“Could you wait for a second so I can slip into sweatpants and a hoodie so I can walk you out?”

Lexa nods. “Of course.”

Clarke disappears into her room, comes out a couple of minutes later wearing black sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt with her school’s logo on it. Lexa doesn’t think she’s ever seen her in something like this, usually privy to just her street clothes or her pajamas.

But there’s something about the way she looks right now, so casual, hair up in a messy bun, hands stuck in the front pocket of her hoodie, that makes Lexa’s chest tighten.

“How’s Raven feeling?” Lexa asks as they walk side by side to her car, pulling her suitcase with her right hand.

“Still really sick, but I think her fever may have gone down a little.”

“I’m glad,” Lexa says with a smile. It’s cute how Clarke stepped in to take care of her friend last night. “I hope she feels better soon.”

They reach Lexa’s car and they walk around it to stand by the trunk.

“You promise you’ll drive safely?” Clarke asks.

“Always.” Lexa smiles.

“Okay,” Clarke says. “Most importantly.” Her eyes twinkle. “How would you rate your stay?”

Lexa laughs. “Hm,” she pretends to think about it. As an excuse to delay her reply, she pops the trunk open and places her bags there, then shuts it with a loud thud. “I would say,” she says, turning around to rest her backside against her car. “Four out of five?”

Clarke gasps. “What? Why not five out of five?” she asks with indignation. She walks to stand in front of Lexa, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised in place.

“You see, when I arrived I was promised chocolate,” Lexa says. She’s trying to be serious, but she can’t not match Clarke’s smile right now. “And my rude host took them away, so. Four out of five.”

“Hm,” Clarke hums. “I feel like you're being unfair.” She takes a step forward, reaches over to play with Lexa’s braid that’s hanging over her left shoulder. “I’m pretty sure you did something to deserve not getting those chocolates.”

Lexa shakes her head. “Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ at the end. “Pretty sure I didn’t.”

“Even so,” Clarke says. She moves her hand away from her hair, over her chest, slowly down Lexa’s sternum. “I’m pretty sure you got other things you weren’t promised,” she whispers. Lexa swallows when Clarke’s hand keeps moving down, past the space between her breasts, over her stomach, until it lands on the waistband of her jeans.

Lexa’s breath hitches when Clarke grips it, fingers sliding under her pants. Clarke tugs and Lexa’s body surges forward, hands immediately landing on her hips.

“Don’t you think that more than makes up for it?” she murmurs.

Before Lexa can even answer, Clarke closes the minimal distance that was left and kisses her. It’s a mix of harsh and soft, like she wants to get as much of Lexa as possible while savoring every second of it.

Lexa matches her pace. She kisses her, commits to memory every swipe of Clarke’s tongue, every content sigh, every soft moan, every bite and suck of her lips, absolutely everything about this moment etched in Lexa’s mind.

She wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist, pulls her closer, moans into the kiss when she feels her breasts pressed against her own, wishes they had enough time to go back inside so Lexa can feel Clarke’s skin directly on her.

Clarke’s hands move up to tangle in Lexa’s hair as they angle their heads, deepening the kiss that’s growing hungrier and hungrier with every lap of their tongues.

Lexa wants Clarke, all of her. Her mouth, her tongue, her hands. The noises she makes, the way her skin reacts to her touch, her smell, her taste.

Everything.

An alarm goes off in Lexa’s pocket, the only thing to effectively force them to separate. They both pull away, breathless, hands and arms still tangled in each other as Lexa reaches for her phone with one hand, pulling it out and stopping the alarm from blaring any longer.

It’s ten o’clock. That’s her cue.

“Time to go, huh?” Clarke says, still breathing heavily. Lexa nods.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Clarke gives her a small smile. She takes a step back, then another. Lexa’s body is yelling at her to follow, but her brain wills her legs to do what she has to do. 

Lexa gets in her car, closes the door behind her, turns it on and immediately rolls down the window. Clarke approaches her again then, leaning her forearms where the window disappeared, hands hanging inside Lexa’s car.

“Drive safe,” Clarke echoes the text she sent Lexa just four days ago.

“I will,” Lexa promises once again. “Take care, Clarke.”

Car now in reverse, Lexa shoots Clarke one last smile.

“Oh, and by the way?” she says. “I think you’re right. I wasn’t being fair.” She grins. “Now that I think about it, I’d rate my stay 4.5 stars.”

Clarke’s laugh echoes in her car and it follows Lexa as she drives away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah. To think I split this chapter in two because I thought the whole thing was going to be 20k words. Silly me. Part two ended up being 20k all on its own. So, my apologies.
> 
> Also, in the original outline for this chapter I was planning on having them kiss only once, at the end right before Lexa leaves. Guess that didn't pan out, either. Whoops!


End file.
